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True Stories about Pets. 


BIT 

MRS. JANE G. SWISSHELM 

and others. 


LO 



<&COPY*IGv^ 


FRANKLIN ST., CORNER OF HAWLEY. 












I 


COPYRIGHT BY 

D. LOTHROP & CO. 
1879 . 


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WRIGHT & POTTER PRINTING COMPANY, 
71) MILK STREET, BOSTON. 




CONTENTS 


Two Pet Lions . 

Amanda 1*. Harris . 

7 

Punch .... 

Brocken . . . - 

14 

Some Trained Canaries 

J. Sever . . . . 

20 

Tom and Others 

Mrs. Jane G. Swisshelm . 

34 

Ciiippernip 

Luthera Whitney 

79 

A True Story about Pets 

Miriam Phillips 

91 

Tiie True Story of a Tame Crow 

Mrs. II. H. Stuart . 

99 

Little Willie . 

M. Priy .... 

110 

Daniel .... 

Mrs. Clara Jay . 

117 

Some Spunky Birds 

Mrs. M. B. C. Slade . 

122 

Fred’s Pet 

Mrs. M. 0. Johnson . 

125 

The Pet Squirrel . 

Mrs. Emily Sliaxv Forman 13G 

A Pet Bird 

Mrs. M. 0. Johnson . 

143 

Hens in a Horse Car . 

Mrs. E. A. Leavitt . 

152 

The Storks 

Mrs. Susan Archer-Weiss 

160 





TWO PET LIONS 

AND THEIR MISTRESS. 


I F any of my readers should have occasion to call 
at a certain house in Boston, number fifty-four 
Howard Street, close by the Revere House, and 
should be shown into the family sitting-room, they 
would notice, the very first thing, a curious arrange¬ 
ment for such a place. For certainly it is very queer 
in a prettily carpeted and furnished room of the kind, 
where the household are in the habit of gathering to 
sew and read and chat, and where guests are re¬ 
ceived, to see a grated door and, lying at the thresh¬ 
old just beyond it, as much at home as two puppies 
or kittens, two large lions! But there we saw them ; 
and in that room they live — members of the family, 
one might almost say,—all the year round, except 



8 


Two Pet Lions and Tluir Mistress. 


as they are let out into a little yard to spend a part 
of each day. 

The walls of their room are brick ; the floor is 
wood; and it is as large as a good-sized sleeping- 
room, so that they have plenty' of space to stroll 
about in. The door is made of a few strong wire 
bars, and fastens on the outside by a sort of hasp; 
and they have one window looking out into the long, 
narrow alley which is their own yard. It is a pas¬ 
sage-way, a few feet wide, with a high wall at the front 
end and high brick walls on each side, with vines 
and pretty green things growing upon the edge; and 
it is open at the top the whole length, so they have 
the fresh air, the blue sky, and the sunshine when 
they are out there. 

These lions are a little more than two years old, 
not yet fully grown, but great, tall, long, strong creat¬ 
ures even now. They are not brother and sister, for 
each one came from a different litter and are the 
only ones that lived. The father and mother of one 
are dead; the two other parents, real African lions 
brought over in a ship, are living now and travelling 
about the country in a menagerie. The little ones 
were born in New York, and the lady who shows 
them to you, whose husband was a showman, took 
them under her care at once and called them her 


Two Pet Lions and Their Mistress. 


9 


“ babies;” and she speaks to them about their 
“ mamma ” and they understand her and kiss her, 
lapping her face and whining softly as a kitten does. 
She brought them up and no one else had any charge 
of them. They used to lie in her lap, and slept on 
her bed at night, until they were quite large. 

One she named “ Willie ” and the other “ Martha ” ; 
and she talks to them and pets them with no more 
fear of them than if they were dogs or cats. She 
used to let them come into the sitting-room; but 
since they are so grown, people who go to the house 
are a little in fear of them, so that the grating is now 
always kept shut. But the creatures seem to love to 
come and lie down as close, to it as they can get 
where they can see the family and be near them ; 
and there they will stretch themselves out and lie in 
the most satisfied manner. 

Nobody goes inside their room but this lady, Mrs. 
Lincoln; and nobody else feeds them or does any¬ 
thing for them. She gives them each day twelve 
pounds of beef; “ not always sirloin steak,” she said, 
but good meat and always beef, because that is the 
most healthful for them and keeps them in perfect 
condition. No other kind of food is allowed them. 
One of them had a bone playing with it and licking 
it. I could not help asking what would happen if 


IO 


Two Pet Lions and Their Mistress. 


the beautiful Maltese-and-white kitten, that was frolic- 
ing about the room, should stray within reach of 
Willie’s great, quick paw. But Mrs. Lincoln said they 
had always had a cat there and nothing had befallen 
her ; she knew better than to go near the grating. 

The lady took a little rattan in her hand, opened 
the door and walked in. Willie was lying just under 
her feet and she said, “ Get up, sir! ” and “ Roll over! ” 
and he obeyed. Something else that she asked him 
to do he seemed to feel rather lazy about and she 
gave him a rap, after which he appeared to be very 
sorry and made a plaintive little whine, and reached 
up his great head and kissed her as if to coax her; 
at which she said, “Yes, kiss mamma,” which made 
him happy. She made him stand up on his hind feet 
and stretch his fore-paws up,as high as he could ; she 
put her hand in his mouth, between his long sharp 
teeth, and patted him on the head. Then he came 
back to the door and laid down again, growling a 
little, perhaps with satisfaction that it was over with. 

She says they never attempted to harm her, and 
she has no fear that they ever will. She has been 
with them ever since they were born and they love 
her. While we were there a young lady, who used to 
live in the family, came in and went right to the grat- 
ing, got down on the floor, and Willie put up his face 


Two Pet Liom aud Their ATistress. 


n 



and kissed her through the bars, he was so glad to 
see her. Martha remains more quiet, though she 
looks as if she had spirit enough, and will do her part 
in the tricks anywhere else 

when called fifs® country, 

°n. \gijL or in the world, 

Probably as these two 

no such sight tame lions living 

can be seen with a woman 


Willie and Martha. {From photograph .) 


on such companionable terms and wholly under her 
• control. Any visitors can see them ; but it is ex¬ 
pected that they will pay a small fee for doing so, or 
buy a photograph of the lions which is for sale. The 




12 


Two Pet Lions and Their Mistress. 


picture given here is one of the lady and her strange 
pets, out of several attitudes in which Mr. Black, the 
photographer, took them. 

Perhaps you will wonder, as I did, where Mr. Black 
took the pictures, and how he managed to do it and 
to keep them so still and attentive ; for you see they 
are both very alert and gazing earnestly at some¬ 
thing. In answer to these questions, their mistress 
told me that she had them out in a sort of yard be¬ 
yond their alley, and the photographer attracted their 
attention to some object and so secured these admira¬ 
ble likenessess. 

There is no way of getting out of their own quar¬ 
ters except through the sitting-room; and through 
that Mrs. Lincoln conducts them, day after day, to 
their playground out of doors. Imagine being a vis¬ 
itor at the house, or a caller, and having these enor¬ 
mous, sharp-toothed, big-pawed pets passing, unmuz¬ 
zled and unchained, past you ! Probably you would 
make a hasty retreat, and not stop until there was a 
closed door beween yourself and them. The last time 
I was there, hoping to see them playing out in the 
sunshine, she had just taken them in that she might 
have the washing hung out to dry in their alley. 

Perhaps it is not so strange that she has no fear; 
for she brought these and three others — five little 


Two Pet Lions and 1'heir Mistress. 13 

% 

whelps like puppies — from New York in her lap, and 
nursed them up (the others died as you already 
know) on a bottle such as babies are fed from, until 
they knew how to lap the milk from a dish; and on 
milk they were fed from her own hand until they 
could eat meat. They are fed now only once a day, 
at noon, and not at all on Sunday; such being the 
regulation in menageries, she informed me. In addi¬ 
tion to this they have water once a day ; and at night 
they sleep on the bare boards. They play with each 
other like kittens ; and sometimes they roar like their 
kind in a savage state. Martha is the most quiet, but 
she has keen watchful eves; and they both look up 
sharply when the door-bell rings and a new footstep 
is heard — indeed all their perceptions seem acute. 

Large sums have been offered for them, for there is 
not such a case known in the world as two tame lions 
kept by a woman. She has not yet decided what 
she shall do with them; but it seems quite probable 
that some day, when they are full grown, and Willie 
has become a more ferocious-looking creature with a 
great shaggy mane falling over his neck, and a terrible 
voice, they will be exhibited about the country, the 
wonder of everybody, by their resolute and affectionate 
mistress. Some day they will be very famous. 



PUNC H. 


P UNCH is a mocking-bird — mine. 

Were you to pass my house on a warm morn- 
ing, you would hear him mocking the crows and the 
jays, and the robins and thrushes, and the orioles, and 
the martins, and the big rooster, and the little one, 
and the bantam ; and barking, and whinnying and 
squealing and cackling, and pounding, and moo-ing 
and baa-ing — and all before you could get out of 
hearing distance. 

He tries hard to sing “ Yankee Doodle,” and some¬ 
times succeeds very well, then again, he fails most 



Punch. 


*5 


laughably. He can say “ what ? what ? ” very dis¬ 
tinctly, also “ no.” I say to him, “ Punch you’re an old 
darling aren’t you ? ” and he looks at me and says “ no.” 

He often gets in such a glee of singing, that he 
sings while he stands in his bath-dish, and once he 
crowed while I was holding him lightly in my hand. 
Of a bright day, he runs all over the floor, singing 



A SINGING BATH. 


and dancing and spreading his wings, now lighting 
on my head just long enough to give his loudest 
whistle ; then off again, stopping his song long enough 
to catch a crumb of bread as I toss it toward the 
ceiling. 

He likes attention and doesn’t approve when I 
notice the other pets of the household. The other 


i6 


Punch . 


day I gave the red-bird some little dainty, and Punch 
was all curiosity in regard to it; he peeped between 
the wires of the cage on one side, ran to the other 
side and looked in, then up on top of the cage and 
looked in ; and then flew down and picked my fingers 
with all his might, as much as to say, “ I’ll teach you 
to feed other birds, my lady ! take that! and that! 
and that ! ” 

He knows that one particular round box is kept for 
worms and bugs; and whenever he sees it he rushes 
to it, upsets it, and flutters over it, teasing to have it 
opened. If he sees me come into the room with one 
hand closed, he thinks at once, “There’s a bug!” 
flies to me and lights on my hand, gives it a sharp 
peck, looking at me like the saucy rogue that he is! 

His greatest dainty is— now what do you think ? 
Candy? No. Nuts? He likes pea-nuts pretty well, 
but there is something better. You can’t guess? 
Well, then, I will tell you : 

SPIDERS! 

And the blacker, larger, and more horrible, the 
better he likes them. I start out every morning and 
hunt them for him. Long practice has made me an 
expert. I know just where to look for them, and 
can even catch them with my bare fingers, and carry 
them to Punch in triumph, no matter how much they 


Punch. 


i7 


wiggle. That is what Punch thinks I am made for, 1 
dare say — to catch his spiders. 

One day last summer I saw a little boy sitting on 
the steps watching Punch with eyes so full of won¬ 
der that they were as round as marbles. Punch was 
delighted to have so attentive a listener; he whistled 
and sung and crowed his loudest and best. Pres¬ 
ently the little boy evidently thought if such a mite 
of a bird could crow exactly like a rooster, a small 
boy ought to be able to do it too, so he crowed, 
and such a crow ! I am sure there was a laugh out 
in the barn-yard. Punch put his head on one side 
and looked down at the boy in silence. After think¬ 
ing a little he crowed just as nicely and slowly as he 
could, and then gave a knowing little look at the boy 
which meant, “There, that's the way it is done! try 
again, Boy! ” 

I thought he was a wise bird or he never would 
have known that the boy was trying to crow. 

And how he does like to tease my other birds! 
When “Bob, 5 ’ the thrush, takes a bath he pretends 
he wants to bathe very badly too, in fact cannot 
wait a minute, so he hops on the side of the pan, 
greatly to Bob’s displeasure, and then gets behind 
Bob and shakes and flutters his wings, and goes 
through all Bob’s motions, so comically, and Bob growls, 


iS 


Punch. 


grumbles and looks 
daggers at him, and 
when he can endure it 
no longer makes Punch 
fly for his life. Punch 
thinks that is jolly fun. 

I am sorry to say he 
has any failings. But 
he has. For instance ; 
he teases his pretty, 
fluffy, little sister Pearl 
until life is a burden - 
to her. If in the cage punch’s favorite perch. 

with her he reaches up slyly while singing, and catches 
her by her poor little foot and throws her down, she 
shrieking wildly as she goes, while I rush to the res¬ 
cue. 

Pearl sings well, but Punch discourages her; he 
mocks her in the most disagreeable way, just enough 
like her to let the folks know what he is doing, and 
to make her ashamed. He prefers to do himself what 
singing is necessary; and when he gets very tired 
of everything else he sits down and sings. Sometimes 
he sings all night, and that is not so agreeable if one 
wishes to sleep, and still it is funny to wake up in the 
night and hear him crowing, perhaps a dozen times 
in succession. 



Punch. 


His memory is remarkable, showing itself mostly 
in mischief however. More than a year ago his mate 
carried a stick and some threads to the clock shelf as 
though she thought of making a nest there, and ever 
since Punch has insisted that there is a nest there, 
and when I put my hand to the shelf he flies at me 
and picks with his bill, and makes every sharp claw 
go into my hand as he bounds up and down like a 
rubber ball, ending by chasing me quite across the 
room. When I sit down and point my finger at him, 
this is the way he looks : 



SOME TRAINED CANARIES. 


“T TERE, Dickd Pretty little pet! ” 

JL JL The words, accompanied by that peculiar 
chirping whistle so often used in attracting the atten¬ 
tion of birds, were echoed by the sweet warbling of 
a beautiful little canary, who flew from his cage and 
perched upon the outstretched hand of a clever 
adept at the art of magic, who had been engaged for 
some time in entertaining a large audience, among 
which the writer was fortunate enough to have se¬ 
cured a place. 

The magician — or prestidigitateur, as he was 
styled on the large, illuminated placards in front of 










Some Trained Canaj'ies. 


21 


the theatre entrance,—having welcomed the bird 
with a fond kiss, announced that lie would now give 
his little pets, of which there was a large cage full 
upon a table near at hand, an opportunity of amusing 
the spectators with some tricks that had been taught 
them. 

Having thus briefly introduced his trained canaries, 
he directed the attention of the spectators to a minia¬ 
ture tight rope, erected on the table near the cage in 
which the birds were merrily singing. It was con¬ 
structed like the tight-ropes one sees sometimes at 
the circus, the rope itself being stretched across the 
forked points of two props, about a foot apart from 
each other, and fastened to the table so as to present 
the outline of a gabled farm-house roof. The spec¬ 
tators having examined the rope, the magician caused 
Dick to hop from his hand to the table, pick up a 
tiny silk flag with a coy daintiness that was very 
coquettish, and at a certain signal fly with it in his 
beak to the end of the tight-rope. 

He then fastened another flag in the prop farthest 
from Dick, and made another sign to the bird. No 
sooner was it given than Dick, still holding the first 
flag in his beak, walked slowly up the tight-rope with 
solemn dignity, lifting one foot after the other with 
all the care and precision of a real acrobat, and, 


22 


Some Trained Canaries. 


having at length reached the farthest prop, caught 
the flag fastened there with one of his feet, and, 
balancing himself on one leg, turned his head from 
side to side, causing the flag in his beak to wave, as 
a signal of his capture of the enemy’s banner. 

The trick finished, Dick, at a sign from his mas¬ 
ter, flew back to the cage. 



When he had gone the magician placed on the 
table a tiny open carriage, and announced that some 
of his pets would next enjoy their evening drive to 
the Park. With that he gave a peculiar whistle, 
which was answered instantly by a little canary who 
flew to him, warbling a few glad notes of welcome 
that echoed sweetly through the hall. The magician 
took the bird tenderly in his hands, and with much 














Some Trained Canaries. 


23 


dexterity fitted on his body a small dress-coat and 
vest of broadcloth, which were kept in place by 
means of an elastic band that fastened around the 
bird’s throat. He next placed on his head a minia¬ 
ture beaver hat that almost rivalled in neatness and 
polish the hat of a grown-up gentleman of fashion. 
His costume was completed by fitting on a pair of 
loose trousers, after which he was placed on the 
right-hand seat of the carriage, where he sat with a 
staid dignity that might have done honor to a veri¬ 
table millionaire. 

Having finished the bird’s toilet the magician 
whistled again, and a second canary flew to him, 
whom he in turn attired in a tiny lady’s carriage 
costume, to the “ fit ” and “ set ” of which I fear the 
majority of my young lady readers would take a 
most decided exception. Her canary-ship, however, 
seemed quite satisfied with the garment; at least, she 
did not struggle against having it put on, or give any 
other evidence of displeasure; while her head was 
decked in a little bonnet with a most bewitching 
feather, that must surely have made sad havoc 
among the hearts of the more susceptible young gen¬ 
tlemen canaries, if they saw it while promenading the 
drive. 

Her toilet having been completed she was placed 
in the carriage beside her dignified husband. 


2 4 


Some 1'rained Canaries . 


Again the magician whistled, and once more the 
signal was responded to by a canary, who, in a jiffy, 
was dressed in a tiny suit of loose-fitting livery, with 
gilt buttons and cockaded beaver,— everything, in 
fact, excepting the time-honored yellow-topped boots. 
The gilt buttons, however, were mere empty decep¬ 
tions, or at most matters of form, for the entire suit, — 
coat, vest and trousers, fastened from behind with a 
ribbon. 

The little footman’s beaver having been fastened 
carefully on his head, he was perched up behind his 
master and mistress, on the seat set aside for foot¬ 
men, such as may be seen on any fashionable 
carriage. 

There was now only wanting a team to complete 
the grand turnout, and this was soon furnished by 
two more canaries, who were quickly harnessed to 
the carriage by means of tiny leather bands fastened 
to little collars which were placed around their necks. 
A whip was then placed at the side of the dash¬ 
board, and two pairs of reins fastened to the collars 
of the team, and put in the beak of the bird-million¬ 
aire. 

Everything being now in readiness for the start the 
magician gave the signal, and away went the canary- 
team in fine style, dragging the carriage after them, 
the whole presenting so capital a picture, in minia- 


Some Trained Canaries. 


25 


ture, of a genuine carriage and bays bowling along a 
fashionable promenade that the spectators broke 
forth in loud applause, which the magician acknowl¬ 
edged in behalf of the little birds by a graceful bow. 

When the carriage had driven entirely around the. 
table, the team wheeled about and returned home, 
where they were unharnessed, and the occupants of 



the carriage taken out, undressed, and all five per¬ 
mitted to fly back to their cage. 

After the birds had retired the magician announced 
that a more tragic performance, which he called “ The 
Fate of a Traitor,” would follow. He called a canary 
to him, and with the same dexterity he had before 
shown in arranging the riding costumes of the other 













2 6 


Some Trained Canaries. 


birds soon dressed him in a suit of military clothes, 
in which he presented so fine and martial an appear¬ 
ance, with plumed hat, epaulets, and navy-blue coat 
and trousers, that one would scarcely think he would 
have consented to act the part of a traitor, — for such 
was the character the magician intended he should 
play. 

Having told the spectators in a few words the story 
of how the soldier-bird had deserted his colors and 
played the part of a spy for the enemy, the magician 
began the preparations for his punishment by erect¬ 
ing upon the table a small pole, on the top of which 
was fastened a seat similar to that which formed part 
of the ancient instrument of torture called the “ duck¬ 
ing-stool.” In this seat he placed the recreant bird, 
and then brought out a toy cannon, made of brass, 
which he loaded, in the presence of the spectators, 
with a heavy charge of powder. Having fixed the 
fuse he placed the piece in position, some distance 
from the pole, so that, though it was discharged di¬ 
rectly at the latter, the bird in the seat would not be 
injured. He then lit a small wax taper and placed 
it in the trail of the gun-carriage. 

The preparations for the execution being now fin¬ 
ished, the magician gave a low whistle and another 
canary hopped from the cage, slowly approached the 
cannon, picked up the taper with one its feet, and, 


Some Trained Canaries . 


27 


hopping upon the trail, lit the fuse. During all this 
time, the soldier-bird had remained perfectly still 
upon the pole and seemed to be watching the fuse as 
it slowly burned nearer and nearer the powder. 

Suddenly there was a bright flash, a cloud of 
smoke, aloud report, and the soldier bird fell from his 
seat to the table, motionless and apparently dead. 
His executioner, who still perched on the trail of the 
gun-carriage, having seen the effect of his fire dropped 
the taper and hopped back to his cage, exhibiting no 
signs of the fright that it would have been natural to 
suppose a canary would have shown upon hearing a 
cannon discharged so near him. 

To show the spectators how effective the execu¬ 
tioner’s fire had been, the magician caught hold of 
the foot of the motionless soldier-bird and held him 
suspended in the air for some moments, the bird, 
meantime, betraying not the least sign of life. 

The magician then dropped him into the palm of 
his hand and rolled him backward and forward ; but 
he still remained apparently lifeless. At the calling 
of his name and a chirping signal from ihe magician, 
however, he revived with startling abruptness, hopped 
upon his owner’s finger, and, in token of his resurrec¬ 
tion, warbled forth a happy carol and then flew away 
among his companions in the cage. 

After the birds had performed several more tricks, 


28 


Some Trained Canaries. 


such as drawing a little bucket from a miniature well, 
and others of similar simplicity, the magician, in 
bringing the exhibition to a close, called out: 

“ Here Tommy! Tommy ! Come here ! ” The com¬ 
mand was answered by a large and handsome tom¬ 
cat, who sprang gracefully upon the table and, at a 
sign from his master, walked slowly through the door 
of the bird-cage and lazily curled himself up in a 
bundle and blinked sleepily at the spectators. 

To the astonishment of many of the latter, the ca¬ 
naries seemed to regard his unseemly intrusion with 
the utmost indifference, and began singing all the 
more cheerily and hopping upon Tommy’s head and 
on his back, and even going so far as to pick up seeds 
under his very nose; chirping and warbling all 
the time as if to express pleasure at his company. 
Tommy, for his part, was quite as unconcerned as the 
canaries, and watched their movements with a sort of 
drowsy interest, making no attempt to molest them 
or drive them off his head or back. 

The writer puzzled for months and months after¬ 
ward trying to account for the strange spectacle, and 
looked through all the books about birds and cats 
that he could find without discovering an explanation 
of it. He continued to be perplexed until, finally, a 
young friend who was quite an expert naturalist re- 


Some Trained Canaries. 


29 


vealed the secret, which may now be told to my read¬ 
ers. 

Tommy, when he was but a little kitten indeed, had 
been placed against a bird-cage, the wires of which 
had been previously heated until they were very hot, 
and had his fur singed enough to cause him severe 
pain for a few moments. This apparently cruel but 
necessary operation had impressed his kitten-mind 
with the idea that if he attempted to harm either a 
bird-cage or its inmates he would suffer the same 
pain that he had endured while being pressed against 
the hot wires. The lesson once taught was never 
forgotten, and in the same way as the proverb tells 
us “ A burnt child will dread the fire,” he ever after¬ 
ward dreaded to meddle with any cage or the birds 
within it. 

Some years after seeing the trained canaries above 
described, the writer had the pleasure of attending 1 
one of Mr. Robert Heller’s magical entertainments 
and of witnessing one of that witty gentleman’s fa¬ 
vorite tricks, the interest of which centered entirely 
in the intelligence of three trained canaries. 

In beginning the trick Mr. Heller wheeled a 
small round table to the front of the stage, and 
placed on it a gilt bird-cage containing three pretty 


3 ° 


Some 1'rained Canaries. 


little canaries. After announcing that he intended to 
kill these, he withdrew several paces from the table 
and then leveled a pistol at the cage, taking, appar¬ 
ently, particular pains to aim accurately. The ladies 
in the audience, expecting every moment that the pis¬ 
tol would be discharged, covered their ears to drown 
the noise. Purposely misunderstanding their action 
Mr. Heller lowered the pistol, and stepping forward 
begged their pardon in a most polite manner and 
said: 

“ It was very stupid of him to do so, but he really 
had not intended to hurt their feelings by killing the 
canaries before their eyes, and he would hasten to 
make amends for his oversight.” 

With that he drew a large silk handkerchief from 
his pocket and wound it around the cage, completely 
hiding the little birds from view. Having in this 
clever and unsuspicious way given the birds a signal 
which they perfectly understood, he again with¬ 
drew some distance from the cage, leveled the pistol 
at it, and fired. 

The echoes of the report had scarcely died 
away when he stepped forward, unwound the handker¬ 
chief and showed the cage apparently empty, the birds 
having ceased to sing and being nowhere to be seen. 
With a compassionate utterance of “poor little 


Some Trained Canaries. 


3 i 


things! ” he opened the door of the cage, put in his 
hand and drew forth a canary from the bottom of the 
cage; then, holding it suspended in the air for some 
moments, during which it betrayed no signs of life, he 
threw it into the air. It turned over and over several 
times and fell with a slight thud upon a soft rug at 
the foot of the table, remaining as motionless as a 
bird that was really dead. 

Mr. Heller then drew forth the two other cana¬ 
ries, held them suspended a moment in the same 
way, and then threw them in the air and allowed 
them to fall upon the rug, where they lay perfectly 
motionless. Having thus apparently settled the mat¬ 
ter of their lifelessness beyond doubt, Mr. Heller 
picked them up carefully, laid them upon another 
table in the middle of the stage, and made prepara¬ 
tions for continuing his trick. 

He produced three eggs which he began to wrap 
up in paper slowly, saying that he must now be very 
careful, for if the eggs were to be broken it would 
spoil the trick. He had scarcely spoken when the 
eggs broke with a crash as if by accident, and, with a 
very wry face, he began to unroll the paper to 
show the spectators what a wreck he had. 

He continued to unroll the paper, until he came to 
what the spectators supposed vras one of the broken 


3 2 


Some Trained Canaries. 


eggs, when, with feigned surprise, he exhibited, in¬ 
stead of the broken shells and bursted yolks, one of 
the canaries that he had placed upon the table but a 
short time before, and which, by some mysterious 
means with which he alone was familiar, had been 
made to take the egg’s place. He unrolled the paper 
further, and as before showed a second canary in¬ 
stead of another broken egg, and then unrolling the 
paper entirely disclosed the third canary. All three 
birds, although they had been rolled over and over 
while the papei was being unwrapped, remained mo- 
tinoless and seemed to all appearances to be lifeless. 

Without waiting to explain how he had contrived 
to make the broken eggs disappear and the birds take 
their place, Mr. Heller uttered an expression of pre¬ 
tended disappointment and, with seeming ill-humor, 
said that “ he didn’t see what he could do now that 
his trick had been spoilt except make a fricassd of 
the canaries.” 

Acting on this remark he got a small sauce-pan, 
and, placing some powder in a dish upon the center- 
table, dropped the birds, one after another, into the 
sauce-pan, they still remaining motionless. He next 
lit the powder, which turned out to be a small quan¬ 
tity of Greek fire, and holding the sauce-pan over it 
for some time as if he were cooking the contents fi- 


Some Trained Canaries. 


33 


nally undertook to stir the fricassd with his short eb¬ 
ony wand. Instead of stirring up any fricasse. how¬ 
ever, he stirred up one of the canaries, who, knowing 
that the stirring of the wand in the pan was the sig¬ 
nal for it to come to life, flew up on the other end of 
the wand and, to Mr. Heller’s well-feigned amaze¬ 
ment, stretched its wings once or twice and then flew 
out into the auditorium over the heads of the spectators. 

With an expression of uncertainty that seemed to 
mean that he thought either himself or the fricassd 
bewitched, Mr. Heller again made an effort to stir 
the sauce-pan, whereupon another canary hopped up 
as before on the end of the wand alive, and stretch¬ 
ing its wings also flew after the first canary. A third 
attempt with the wand resulted in the same way — 
the third canary understanding the touch of the wand 
as the signal for him to fly away and obeying it as 
the otheis had. 

Having thus performed the trick he had really in¬ 
tended to from the beginning, although he made be¬ 
lieve that he had meant to do something else, Mr. 
Heller recalled the pets to the stage once more with 
a renewed whistle and withdrew amid the hearty ap¬ 
plause of the spectators. 


TOM AND OTHERS. 


CHAPTER I. 


WHY I DID NOT SUCCEED WITH POULTRY. 

1 

LONG time ago we went to live on a farm, and 



JljL I was very happy in the many plans about all 
the things I was going to have and do. 

I would have bossies, big, staggering, blundering', 
obstinate bossies ; I would have lambies, large-headed, 
thick-legged, wabbling, awkward lambies ; and I should 
watch them and tend them, while they learned to eat 
and walk and run and frisk and gambol; watch them 
till they grew so active and graceful that poets could 
write songs about them, and market-men — perhaps 
read the songs and think how pretty they were. 

I should have ever so many cunning, nimble, pink- 



Tom and Others. 


35 


backed little pigs, that never would need to learn any¬ 
thing, but would spend all their time eating and for¬ 
getting and growing ugly. Then, oh! but I would have 
such flocks of green, downy goslings; spry, grey duck - 
lings; yellow, puff-ball chicks, and stupid, melancholy 
young turkeys. I would feed and care for these until 
they changed their baby clothes for bran new coats, 
and grew to be large and respectable poultry; and I 
thought, indeed, that nobody ever did have quite such 
a nice time as I was engaging for myself. 

The farm to which we w r ere going was just the place 
to have all kinds of domestic animals. There was 
plenty of pasture for cows, and calves, and sheep, and 
lambs and pigs ; plenty of water for ducks and geese ; 
plenty of barn-yard for them and all the turkeys and 
chickens any one need want; so what was to hinder 
my success in the pig and poultry business ? 

It is a long time since people began to count chick¬ 
ens before they are hatched, and we had not been 
farming a great while until folks found out that I had 
been doing a good deal of this kind of counting. 

It is not every school-mistress who makes a good 
farmer’s wife, but I still think I should have gotten on 
with the pigs and the chicks very well if it had not 
been for our pets. Yes, the more 1 think of it, the 
more I feel certain that the principal fault of that 


3 6 


To?n and Others. 


failure lay with those pets ! Not that they objected to 
ducks or geese or hens or sheep, or anything in that 
line, but they were officious, and always interfered 
with my plans. 

First, there was “Tom,” as pretty a creature as 
ever any one need wish to see, and so- interesting! 
Tom was a favorite throughout the whole neighborhood 
and had so many callers and admirers that we were 
all thrown in the shade. Tom loved poultry and pigs 
and lambs as well as anyone ; but he would eat them 
before they were cooked, nay, he would have them 
before they were half grown. No matter what was 
said to him, he ate them just the same, feathers, fur 
and all, and never waited for a knife or fork. No 
matter how much I remonstrated or explained, he 
kept right on as he had begun, although I never had 
a pupil that I tried so hard to educate and refine. 

Perhaps it is not strange that I failed to make a 
gentleman of Tom, for he was a very lively young 
panther, almost a year old, and full six feet long when 
I saw him first. If I had taken him young, and be- 
fore his habits were formed, I might have made some¬ 
thing more of him. As it was, the only change that 
ever came to Tom was that every day he grew older, 
larger, and worse, could eat more pigs and chickens, 
and more of a great many other things.. 


Tojji a?id Others. 


37 


Tom had a small house all to himself, which stood 
in a corner, by the great stone chimney, just outside 
the house so that he and I lived under the same roof 
most of the time for nearly three years, and got pretty 
well acquainted. He wore a strong leather collar 
and was fastened to his house by a chain six feet long 
so he could step out and take the air. 

His master thought him a beauty, and never wearied 
of his tricks; could not understand why people should 
be afraid of him, and said that pigs and poultry ought 
to keep out of the way. It was a small way, for his 
entire domain was a semi-circle of six feet across, 
while the pigs and poultry had free range of so much 
space that there was no excuse for their trespasses on 
Tom’s ground. 

This was all true; but I had no more success in 
educating the pigs and chickens than in training Tom 
himself. There the cunning rascal would lie in wait 
for them, his green eyes all ablaze, and his body still as 
a log, all but the tip of the tail which would wag, wag, 
back and forth, until some silly creature came within 
reach — and that was the last of it. 

But Tom never did want so much to catch anything 
as a child, no matter what child. The sight of one 
drove him frantic, and oh ! so many children came 
or were brought to see him. I do not think my heart 


33 


Tom and Others. 


has ever quite recovered from the stand-stills it used 
to have those three long years when it so often 
seemed probable that Tom would catch a child. 

But Tom was not our only pet; and I liked Billy 
ever so much better. He was a young deer, and it 
was exciting to see Tom watch to catch Billy, and 
Billy watch Tom, eat grass right in front of him, and 
look at his foe as if he said — “ Don’t you wish I 
would ? ” 

Tom would be so provoked that he’d spring with 
all his might. The chain jerked him back; Billy 
sprang over the fence and darted off; the men 
laughed and shouted, and next day Billy came again 
to see Tom and have some more sport with him. 

Tom was hot the only enemy Billy had to watch, for 
Big Bear and Little Bear were chained in the meadow, 
behind the house, and either of them would have 
liked to catch him. So when he came racing down 
the meadow, in great rainbow leaps, to spring over the 
tall picket fence into the middle of the garden, out 
on to the road, away through the lower orchard, past 
the mill and back again, he had to take good care 
that Messrs. Bear did not spoil his frolic. 

These four pets were nice enough, but the pet I 
liked best of all was Kate, a large cream-colored 
horse, with fiery eyes, small head, arched neck, slender 
le^s and superb black mane and tail. 



THE PET I LIKED BEST OF ALL.” 
























































Tom and Others. 


4 l 

Kate could canter and rack and pace. It was 
splendid sport to get a saddle on her back and go 
“over the hills and far away.” But riding was not 
plowing or making furrows for corn and potatoes. 
The men wanted Kate to make furrows and draw a 
buggy; and she had made up her mind to do nothing 
of the sort. She liked carrying a lady in a long skirt, 
if she sat straight in the saddle, but resolved that was 
all she would do. She gave due notice of her resolu¬ 
tion by kicking the buggy to pieces and putting the 
plow harness into very bad condition. But three men 
were not to be balked by one horse. Kate must draw 
a sulky, at least. One man galloped very fast after a 
a doctor that afternoon, while another lay insensible 
in a fence corner ; and Kate was never again hitched 
to a buggy. 

It was not long, however, until she fell in love with 
Nance, a large, dark bay horse, very strong and gentle, 
and almost as wise as a man. Kate would do any¬ 
thing to help Nance, and to keep close to her. So 
they worked together in double harness beautifully 
and pulled together all their lives from that time for¬ 
ward. 

Our first cow was also a beauty; and, like our other 
pets, had some unpleasant traits. She would not let 
a man or boy milk her; would chase a dog clear off 
the farm; watched for a chance to teach Tom he had 


42 


Tom and Others. 


no business there, and to drive those two bears out of 
the meadow, while Tom or either of the bears would 
have liked nothing better than to have come into close 
quarters with old Blackie ; and it was some trouble to 
keep the peace between them. 

She did not like Amanda Araminta at first, and 
sent her off in a hurry with her milk-pails, then gave 
me notice not to come there to milk with that ring on 
my finger. She was not going to stand any nonsense, 
but when her terms were complied with she did give 
such pails of delicious milk and yellow cream that she 
had a right to be particular. 

All things considered, we had quite a stirring time 
that first spring of life on a farm, and it was not often 
a day passed without bringing us some excitement. 
If Torn did not catch a hen or a neighbor’s dog, he 
had made an attempt ; Billy had eaten the lettuce or 
beets ; Big Bear or Little Bear had nabbed a pig or 
goose that had no business to be in the meadow ; 
Kate had kicked something to pieces, or Blackie sent 
the milk-pails or milkers sprawling; and so we had 
no need to go to the circus. 

CHAPTER II. 

HOW TOM AND BILLY GOT ON IN LIFE. 

One morning, that first summer, I was waked by 
the most frightful cries. Grandmother and Amanda 





n 


» 


\ 


SHE WOULD CHASE A DOG CLEAR OtF THE FARM, 





















































































Tom arid Others. 


45 

Araminta were rushing through the house wringing 
their hands and crying out: 

“ Tom is killing some one! Run ! Run ! Tom is 
killing some one ! ” 

Tom’s master sprang out of bed and ran quick 
enough ; I followed to take him a stick. He did not 
wait to get one and I thought he could do nothing 
with Tom without a stick. We both rushed out of 
the front door. The women staid down-stairs and 
screamed; the men put their heads out of the win¬ 
dows up-stairs and called to Tom’s master to “ Hurry ! 
hurry! or he would be too late ! ” 

It was just daybreak, and a dense fog had settled 
in the valley. I soon found the stick, but the man to 
use it had disappeared in the fog. Everything had 
disappeared in that fog; one could see nothing at 
a distance of three or four feet. But if there was no 
sight there was plenty of sound: the two women 
still shrieked and prayed; the men called ; and out 
of the mist came despairing, terrible cries : 

“ My God, my God ! Take him off ! Take him 
off!” 

These wails came from the public road on the 
other side of the mill race. I must go to the bridge 
to get across. The man would be ddad before I got 
there. It was a man’s voice, full of mortal agony. I 
had seen Tom kill so many things and knew so well 


Tom and Others. 


4 6 

how he did it. The cries grew weaker and I felt that 
every one would be the last. I was on the bridge 
within three yards of the terrible scene, when, sure 
enough, the sounds ceased ; there was a heavy thud as 
of some one falling. I was too late, and stopped to 
cover my eyes, when I . heard a gruff voice ex¬ 
claim : 

“ I wonder the cats haven’t eaten you a long time 
ago!” 

And Tom’s master stalked up to the bridge on his 
way to the house. When I asked him what the matter 
was, he snapped out: 

“Oh, some fool that got frightened at Billy.” 

Here, then, was the beginning of a new trouble. 
Billy was getting horns and giving notice of how he 
meant to use them; they were sprouting up out of 
his head, and as large as two walnuts. He would 
have hurt the poor man with them if he could, but 
they were not yet large enough. 

I knew he was going to be dangerous, and wanted 
to have him killed, but everyone took his part. It 
was so clever of a little fellow like Billy to catch a 
lubberly man, six feet high, knock him up against a 
bank and make him stand there to be kneaded like a 
lump of dough. Billy was a hero, and the poor man 
was laughed at till he had to leave the neighborhood. 
It was a great pity 


7om and Others. 


47 


He had heard there was a panther at the house, 
and as he had never seen one, or a deer, either, when 
some strange creature attacked him in the fog, he 
thought of course it was the panther and expected to 
be killed. Billy was not even shut up, but was pet¬ 
ted and feasted and praised like any other con¬ 
queror. 

When his horns came to be horns and not knobs, 
he made many a one of his admirers get up on a 
fence pretty nimbly, and that was good enough for 
them. But he frightened folks who did not deserve 
it, and still the people took his part. A strong, reso¬ 
lute boy, by taking hold of his horns, could make him 
behave. Sometimes, one would jump on his back 
for a ride and get a fine tumble. But there was no 
use to say a word against Billy ; even the folks he 
made scamper did not want him shut up. There was 
not another deer in the country. He was very beau¬ 
tiful and graceful, and they liked to see such a fleet 
creature bound over the fences, across the fields, and 
through the woods. It was sport to set dogs after 
him, to see him toss them with his horns, stamp them 
with his fore feet, send them flying with his hind feet, 
or skip off leaving them to wonder what had become 
of him. 

All that summer he frolicked and visited, and all 


To?n and Others. 


4 S 

the next winter. The next spring his horns dropped 
off and he got another pair with a prong on each. 
No boy ever was so proud of a new pair of boots as 
Billy of his new horns. He was large and strong, 
too, a splendid fellow. I made him a new collar, red, 
with his name on it, to wear with his new horns ; and 
there was not another such dandy in that country. 

One Sabbath morning he found himself three miles 
from home and concluded to go to' church. I don’t 
believe he cared for a sermon and so suspect he went 
to show his shiny coat, bright red collar and branch¬ 
ing horns. Indeed, I am certain it was nothing good 
took Billy to church that sultry Sunday, for he did 
not go till the pews were crowded full of people. It 
was a Methodist church, and that was quarterly 
meeting, so the whole neighborhood was present to 
witness Billy’s piety and admire his finery. He 
waited outside for the presiding elder, who was a 
large man, very plump, rosy, grave and dignified, and 
much engaged that morning thinking of the ser¬ 
mon he was going to preach. 

The church door was open, and when the elder 
went in Billy went too, just behind him. There was 
a matting on the floor, which deadened the sound of 
Billy’s hoofs. So the elder walked slowly up the mid¬ 
dle aisle, and Billy after him, making motions with 






























































































































































Tom and Others . 


his head as if he wanted him to hurry along to the 
pulpit and begin the sermon. The good man did 
walk very slowly on quarterly-meeting days. It was 
no wonder then, if Billy intended staying for the ser¬ 
mon, he should want to get it started. But still he 
kept behind and only made passes, until the elder 
halted at the altar steps to put down his hat, which 
delay Billy concluded was rather too much for the pa¬ 
tience of any worshiper of his dignity to endure, so 
gave the unlucky elder such a knock as to send him 
into the pulpit in an oriental attitude of devotion. 

This exploit wound up Billy’s career. No one 
would plead for him any more. He made very good 
venison, and the elder laughed while he ate a piece, 
and thought it a pity to have killed Billy for a frolic 
which did no one any harm. 

CHAPTER III. 

THE BABY AND THE BEAR. 

That first spring, when Tom was trying to catch 
Billy, when Billy was bounding in and out of the gar¬ 
den, when Big Bear and Little Bear were on the look¬ 
out for pigs, when Tom was frantic to get hold of a 
child, and we did not know what the bears might do 


5 2 


Tom and Others. 


to one, when Kate was kicking and Blackie hooking, 
a friend came to visit us and brought a baby eighteen 
months old. She wanted to go on several hundred 
miles further to visit some other friends. There were 
no railroads in those days, and it would be very hard 
to carry so young a child so far in a stage-coach. 
So, mamma left baby Maria with me and went on to 
make her visit. When I think of it now, it seems 
that we must both have been crazy. Baby could walk 
and run almost as fast as I and get through places 
that I could not; but I thought I could take care of 
her and meant to do so. 

Tom’s walk came close to the fence, so we had 
boards nailed over the cracks to keep him from see¬ 
ing her. 

I sometimes wake in the night now, and think of 
that baby and that panther with a low board partition 
between them ; but I watched her so closely that she 
did not get into any special danger until it was al¬ 
most time for mamma to come and I had begun to 
feel easy. 

One day I was busy in the kitchen and thought 
she was playing with her blocks in the dining-room. 
I happened to glance out of the window and there 
she was climbing through the bars of the meadow 
gate, and Big Bear, three or four yards off, watching 




> 



















































































- 


































- 
















- 












N. 




Tom and Others. 


55 


her. He was crosser than Little Bear. They were 
both hungry, and none of the men were about the 
house. 

I thought of it all in a flash. Could I reach baby 
before she reached the bear ? I knew she was going 
straight to him ; if I called she would run faster. 
Should I get something and try to kill the bear if he 
caught her before I did? No, this would be useless; 
my only chance was catching her first. I never could 
run fast and knew it, but I did not break the dish I 
held, and must have got to that gate and through it 
without much loss of time. 

All the way I could see baby hurrying to the bear, 
her little hands outstretched. He was at the end of 
his chain, watching her as I had seen him watch a 
pig he had caught and killed. 

I was coming, coming! but full eight feet from her, 
and she two feet from the bear that stood waiting 
with that hungry, cruel look. It was too late! 
There was no hope ! I could make it no worse by 
frightening her, so I screamed out my agony. She 
was startled, — she stumbled, fell, — and I had her. 

The disappointed monster bellowed, jumped and 
strained at his chain, but it did not break; and soon 
after that baby Maria left us. 


5 6 


Tom and Others . 


CHAPTER IV. 

EDUCATING TOM. 

There never was a day of Tom’s life in which I 
would not have paid any one to kill him. But people 
thought me cruel. No one else wanted the pretty 
creature killed, and every one but his master was too 
much afraid of him to attempt his life. I really do 
not think there was a man in that part of the country 
who would have dared to shoot at Tom, as he stood 
chained in his corner by the old stone chimney. 

His master had taken him when he was quite a 
kitten, and thought he might be trained and taught 
to be as harmless as he was beautiful. He had heard 
of a farmer who kept a panther for a watch-dog; of 
one that used to play with the children and be as 
gentle as a lamb. He had been training Tom a long 
time and had perfect control over him — when he 
struck him behind the ear. He was often away from 
home, so I concluded that / had better train Tom. 

I had read about the man who took a thorn out of 
the lion’s foot and lived with him in peace ever after. 
I knew that a very lovely young lady named Una, 
had once had a lion that was a great comfort to her. 
I knew that 




Tom and Others. 


57 


* “ Little deeds of kindness, little words of love, 

Make this world an Eden, like the heaven above.” 

After turning it all over in my mind, I concluded 
that maybe Tom and I might come to be another 
edition of Mary and her lamb. It would be delight¬ 
ful to know that thousands of happy'children were 
repeating: 

*“ A lady had a panther large, 

His coat was striped and grey; 

And everywhere the lady went 
That panther lead the way. 

He went with her to church one day 
To guard his mistress dear, 

And when he lay down in the aisle, 

The people thought it queer. 

“ The sexton came to turn him out, 

He uttered cries of woe. 

He would not leave the lady’s side 
Because he loved her so. 

‘ There, there ! ’ the gentle preacher said, 

‘ Oh, sexton cease, ’tis vain! 

’Tis love that makes the creature cry, 

The record now is plain. 

“ ‘ The lion and the lamb you know, 

Together shall lie down. 

This Thomas Greycoat is the friend 
Of every lamb in town. 

See the reward that still awaits 
All loving trust and cares ; 

Our saintly sister here converts 
Her panther and her bears 1 ’ ” 

That would be a reward of merit worth striving for. 
Tom and I would be put in a book beside Mary's 


58 


Tom and Others. 


lamb and Mary. So I went to work in good earnest, 
to teach this cruel, wicked world its duty toward pan¬ 
thers. 

For months I petted Tom, and fed Tom, and 
talked to Tom. Every day I stroked Tom’s head 
and shook his paw, and — and stroked his head, and 
shook his paw, and fed him, and talked to him. 
That was all I could do. He did not get a thorn in 
his foot, so I could render him no service of that 
sort ; but I did think, and everybody else thought I 
was making good progress in taming him. 

Fie winked when I put my hand on his head, and 
we all remarked that he looked wise. He minded 
when I spoke, or we felt that he did. I have no doubt 
to this day but he heard every word I said to him, for 
his hearing was excellent. 

He ate all the bread and butter I gave him ; all the 
mashed potatoes when there was plenty of fresh eggs 
and milk in them. He took pap enough from dishes 
I brought to have fed a dozen hungry children; com¬ 
plimented me by approving of my hlanc mange; 
devoured cooked meat with a relish, and behaved 
most obligingly, for I could not let him have raw 
meat as it would make him savage. He bore this in¬ 
terference with his tastes in an exemplary manner all 
day, consoling himself with a chicken, or a dog, or a 


Tom and Others. 


59 


pig when opportunity offered; but when evening came 
and the sun was down, he made us understand that he 
would like to do his own marketing. 

He would walk back and forth the length of his 
chain, lash his long tail, raise his head proudly, sniff 
the air, then give such a shriek as would make the 
valleys ring; stop to listen as if expecting an answer, 
stretch his head forward, then start to run, be sud¬ 
denly checked, raise his head again, gnash his teeth, 
and pant till the foam hung on his lips. 

When Tom shrieked the bears were certain to bel¬ 
low, and with plenty of frogs in the mill-race it made 
quite a concert. The folks on the valley farms must 
have been stupid if they did not come to be judges 
of music. 

Tom’s eyes were always green and fiery when ex¬ 
cited. At night they glowed like live coals; one 
could see them shining in the dark when one could 
not see him or any thing else. The darker it was, 
the brighter his eyes burned and glowed. 

But during those months when I was educating 
him he did seem to mind me all day. While thus 
progressing in his favor, and when not afraid to go 
close up to him, I was thrown from a carriage, badly 
hurt, brought home and kept in bed six weeks. 

When able to go on crutches, the very first time I 


6o 


Tom and Others. 


stepped out of doors I went to see Tom, for I wanted 
to keep some control over him. I went quite near 
before I saw that Tom did really love me; he loved 
me very much, so much that he intended to eat me. 

He was lying on his side when I passed the corner 
and rose when he saw me, as if to say “ Good morn- 
ing.” He then lay down flat, his head on his fore¬ 
paws, his hind legs under him, his tail stretched out 
straight. He kept perfectly motionless, all but about 
four inches of the point of his tail, which moved back 
and forth like a pendulum. 

I knew what that meant but was within his reach 
before I realized the danger. I had heard that a 
panther wonld not jump while looking into a human 
eye. He looked steadily enough into mine. I must 
not flinch or look away. How long could I stand 
there ? Some person or animal was sure to come 
along, and if any thing moved that would be his sig¬ 
nal. I talked to him and said, “ Tom, Tom. Poor 
Tom.” They heard me in the house and thought Tom 
and I must still be good friends, and that he was 
showing himself glad to see me. Sure enough that 
was exactly what he was doing, for he had not yet had 
his dinner. 

His eyes every moment became greener and more 
fiery. Every moment I was moving my crutches cau- 



Tom and Others. 


61 


tiously backward ; I had them planted but was afraid 
to move. At last some one was coming; Tom would 
make his leap, and my only hope was 10 get out of his 
range. I swung myself back on my crutches and 
quite beyond them. I felt his hot breath on my face, 
the rush of air against it, and thought he had me; but 
the chain was too short. 

His leap had been furious, for the sudden jerk on 
the collar threw him against a post. He clung to 
this and glared at me, but I was out of his reach and 
concluded, then and there, that I had no special mis¬ 
sion for taming panthers. Mary and her lamb might 
wear their laurels till dooms-day for all I cared. 

I went in, looked at the clock, and found that Mis¬ 
ter Tom and I had been admiring each other a good 
ten minutes; but I never made him any more pap. 


CHAPTER V. 

I HAVE A VISIT EXTRAORDINARY. 

Our first winter on a farm was very cold. One 
bitter day in February I looked out of the kitchen 
window, and there was Monsieur Big Bear prowling 
about through the back yard as cool as the weather. 
I was alone, not even a cat or canary in the house. 


62 


Tom and Others. 


Big Bear was always savage, and had not been fed 
since early morning. The schools would soon be out 
and, as some little folks passed that way on their way 
home, he must not be hungry. Isaac had left a large 
pot of porridge ready for Bruin’s supper. I put as 
much of it with milk in a bucket as I thought would 
content him, watched until he was not near by, set it 
out, called him, hurried in and closed the door. Lit¬ 
tle Bear saw him eating, struggled till he too broke 
his chain, and I had them both on my hands. 

While they quarreled over the first bucket I set 
out another, but they spilled so much they were not 
half satisfied ; had found out where the supply came 
from and must have more. So they bellowed and at¬ 
tacked the door. It was made in two parts. I knew 
they could tear it to pieces and I must defend it. 

I had heard that bears were afraid of fire, and 
there were some splendid hickory brands in the fire¬ 
place. I took up one and opened the upper half of 
the door a little way. 

There they stood, with forepaws on the lower half. 
Their hot breath puffed into my face, but I had the 
brand at their noses too soon to let them make an ef¬ 
fort to leap over. 1 did not want to burn them for 
fear of making them furious, and was careful not to 
touch either. They did not like the fire and growled 
and shook their heads. They tried, first on one side, 




Tom and Others. 


6 3 


then on the other; got clown and up again; growled 
and attempted to pass that small movable barrier, but 
it moved as they did. 

Fortunately for me, they acted together. When 
one turned to the right the other turned with him, 
and so back again. We must have contested that 
passage for fifteen minutes before it occurred to them 
there was another way into the kitchen. 

They started together and together reached the 
window. I was there when they arrived, and that 
hickory brand was still before their eyes. They 
growled and dodged some time, trying to pass it, then 
started for the next window which I gained as soon 
as they. We went through the old manoeuvres, when 
back they trudged to the kitchen window, then to the 
door, and once more to the windows. 

All at once they remembered there was another 
side to the house and started around past Tom’s do¬ 
main to the parlor windows. “ There ! ” I thought, 
“ what if they should stop to have a tussle with Tom ! ” 
He was shut up that morning, but one of those bears, 
working from the outside for something he wanted 
within, would make short work of that cage. Tom 
would kill them and he be loose! 

I turned this all over in my mind w'hile going to 
meet the brothers at the parlor windows. They came 
promptly, and I was glad to see them. From one to 


6 4 


Tom and Others. 


another they went. Then to the dining-room win* 
dows, one after another; but at last they concluded 
there was something dangerous in that establishment 
and went and climbed a tree. 

I got the buckets, filled them with porridge and 
milk, put in plenty of sugar, set them out, and called 
the gentlemen in black to supper. They came fast 
enough; took their repast; turned over the buckets 
to be sure there was no more on the other side; 
came to the door to inquire about sugar, and found 
fire; thought they might have been mistaken about 
the windows ; went clear around the house for a re-in¬ 
spection ; concluded there was nothing in it that 
would pay for going after; grew good-tempered and 
stood up for a boxing match; wrestled, rolled and 
tumbled; went over to the corn-crib and cider-press, 
then scampered off through the orchard and away to 
the woods. 

It would not do to let them remain at large. So 
wrapping up, I took the dinner-horn and a fresh 
brand and started to hunt Isaac. I knew he was in 
the south-east ravine chopping wood. As I went 
along, I traced Big Bear’s trail in the snow and found 
he had made quite an excursion before I saw him. 

When, finding Isaac, I wanted him to get some of 
the neighbors with guns and go and shoot those 
bears, he laughed, shook his head and said: 



# 





a 


V 


HE COAXED THEM ALONG WITH THE FEED, 















Tom and Others. 


67 


il That won’t do, nohow! ” 

It did not appear to be safe for him to go alone 
and unarmed after the creatures, but he nodded his 
head saying: 

“ Don’t you be afraid! Hi’ll fetch um ’ome all 
hright.” 

Then he took a short stick and a bucket of sweet¬ 
ened feed, started out, and about dark came leading 
Big Bear with Little Bear following. He had traced 
them easily enough, and found them in a tree getting 
hickory nuts: coaxed them along with the feed, and 
when one grew familiar and wanted to hug him, — 

“ Knapped ’im on the ’ead with the stick ! ” 

If any one could catch bears and tame them with 
sugar and kindness it would have been Isaac. But 
the good behavior of a bear is not to be relied upon. 
It was not long after this that he escaped from Big 
Bear, only by his employer being near enough to 
knock his lordship down. 

CHAPTER VI. 

TOM FINDS ANOTHER VICTIM. 

Spring and summer passed. The sun rose and set 
until it was time to make hay in the large meadow. 
One bright forenoon it threatened rain. A great 
deal of hay was down and there was a call for hands. 


68 


Tom and Others . 


My help was a rosy girl who would much rather 
make hay than work in a hot kitchen. I was vain of 
my harvest dinners, and had an idea that nobody 
could cook one as well as myself; so I stayed at 
home that day, all alone, and got dinner. 

During the morning a neighbor came on business 
and went up into the meadow, but his dog staid 
with me. Watch was a very large, valuable animal, 
and did not know that I did not like dogs. I wanted 
some parsley, and went out at the hall door as that 
was the nearest way to the garden. 

I had forgotten about Tom, and was startled to 
come upon him crouched for a spring at* a cow that 
was almost within his reach, and instantly he made 
the leap. The chain was too short and jerked him 
to the ground. The cow bellowed and ran ; her bell 
rattled. Watch sprang at Tom and they closed in a 
death struggle at my feet. 

I ran for the dinner-horn to call the men, thinking 
that Tom would have Watch killed before they could 
come. 

In the kitchen lay a heavy sharp hatchet, and I 
thought that I might hit Tom on the head with it and 
save Watch. I got the horn, picked up the hatchet, 
and ran fast as I could to help poor Watch. When 
I reached the place, behold! no Watch, no Tom was 





99 


HE HA1) MOUNTED A LOG 






























Tom and Others. 


there, and I had not been gone two minutes. What 
had happened! The ground was all torn and bloody, 
but no dog or panther to be seen. I turned to loolc, 
and there, not twenty feet from me, stood Tom. 

Tom loose ! Tom free! I could scarce believe 
my senses. Nothing so terrible as this had ever be¬ 
fore happened. 

He had mounted a log and stood, with head erect 
and drooping tail, sniffing the air as he did in the 
evening when he wanted to start off for a hunt. 

Why didn’t Watch hold him ? He began the fight, 
had released him and ran away from his foe. Oh, 
the coward ! But Tom’s jaws were dripping, and his 
white throat all stained with poor Watch’s blood. 
There was a short bit of chain attached to his collar 
that rattled on the log when he turned his head. 

I blew the horn and the creature .gave one of his 
wild shrieks. I thought he was going to s' ;rt, and 
was afraid I would lose sight of him. I knew his 
master would not be long in coming ; I could surely 
keep guard until then. I went nearer, so that I 
might talk to him and divert his attention from run¬ 
ning away. Who could tell what he might do ! 

I said : 

“ Tom, Tom ! Poor Tom ! ” and thought of all the 
men who had guns. 


72 


Tom and Others. 


Could any of them find Tom if he were loose in the 
woods ? Would any of them be able to shoot him if 
they did ? 

I stayed near him and talked. 

“ Tom, be quiet, sir ! ” and walked about, thinking 
he would not be so likely to crouch and spring on me 
if I moved. 

All the time the queerest thoughts* kept running 
through my head. 

“ Our Father in Heaven would not let Tom run 
away and kill some one.” There the king and I were 
standing, face and face together. I says, “ How is 
your majesty? It’s mighty pleasant weather! Nice 
weather, isn’t it, Tom ? King Tom, you are splen¬ 
did ! Just like a statue of attention. I wonder if my 
peas will burn. There, the statue is moving. Will 
he get cross and have me for his dinner before any 
one comes? The flies will get in my cream. Oh, I 
hear him coming,’’ and long before I expected, Tom’s 
master rushed between us. 

I do not remember how he captured Tom, but he 
soon led him to his cage. When he was secured the 
dog’s master came from the meadow in a towering 
passion. Poor Watch had dragged himself to his 
feet to die, and no wonder he was angry. 

Tom’s master thought Watch had no business to 




Tom and Others. 


73 


place himself in danger. For my part, I was very 
glad to find that my peas were not burned, and that I 
had not forgotten to cover the cream. 


CHAPTER VII. 

TOM GROWS INDEPENDENT. 

If I should write a history of all the achievements 
of Tom and Billy and the Bruin brothers, it would be 
a very large book. 

It was not long after we got rid of Billy that the 
butcher came and took away the bears. 

Tom’s 'master concluded to sell him to a menag¬ 
erie-man the first opportunity; and then my time 
would come for goslings and chicks. 

Tom had grown to be a splendid specimen, full 
nine feet long from the point of his nose to the tip of 
his tail; but all his taming had not broken his spirit. 
He would keep quiet during the day if nothing came 
near he thought he could catch, but after sunset he 
always grew restless. 

* No matter how savage he was he would lie down 
at his master’s command. His master liked to con¬ 
quer him, and often took animals away after he had 
caught them, because he wanted to train him. He 


74 


Tom and Others. 


laughed at folks for being afraid, said, “ Tom had never 
hurt anyone and never would.” 

One cold winter morning, a man came, who had 
ridden ten miles on horseback to know, “ if that pan¬ 
ther was roaming the country.” Some hunters had 
seen tracks in the snow and thought he must have 
made them. 

Another man came from an opposite direction. 
Our panther had been seen in his neighborhood. 
Another came, and another; but Tom had not been 
loose. 

This was very unpleasant, yet no one wanted to 
have Tom killed. They liked to come and look at 
him. It did not cost anything and was as good as a 
show. 

One morning, I was waked by shrieks in the house, 
calls outside, heavy, rapid steps and scurrying feet. 

The whole air seemed full of fright, and I knew 
Tom was in mischief. 

I was in the hall in about three seconds. Sure 
enough there was Tom in the dining-room! It was 
summer now and the doors were open. His master 
was running up the yard fast as he could and rushed 
in at the door, shouting: 

‘‘Where is he?” 

He had found him loose, crouching in a fence cor- 


Tom and Others . 75 

ner. The men had refused to aid in his recapture 
and ran and shut themselves up in the barn. 

He had tried twice to catch him, but Tom was so 
confused by his pursuit and commands that he ran 
into the house. Here he was to answer for himself. 

He marched under the table and laid down. His 
master took hold qf his neck: 

“ Come along, Tom ! ” 

This was just what Tom was not going to do. Old 
master might go along himself, but Tom had made 
up his mind to stay under that table. I did not won¬ 
der, for it was the nicest place he had found since 
leaving his native country. 

There was no carpet on his house in the chimney 
corner; no blinds to the windows; no sweetbriar to 
shut out the light. This room was better than the 
one they had given him, and an Arkansas stranger 
ought to have nice quarters. 

One thing certain, he was not going to vacate un¬ 
til he was ready. The leaves of the table almost 
touched the floor and so protected him. 

When the men of England wore brass collars their 
masters could manage them quite easily. While 
Tom wore a collar his master could manage him. 
The collar was gone, and now, who was master ? 

The only way to secure Tom was to get him into 


Tom and Others. 


7 6 

his cage. He had probably been roaming all night 
and would go in if he saw it. He must go ; and the 
man who used to be his master tried to drag him. 
He resisted and growled, until the women up-stairs 
screamed. The men in the barn heard him, too, and 
kept quiet. 

Tom would not go to his cage. The cage must 
come to Tom. 

I could no more lift it than a mountain, but I 
could hold Tom as well as anybody. The ex-master 
objected but there was no other way. He resigned 
his place to me, went as far as the hall, came back, 
saw that Tom and I were getting on finely, and went 
out. I said: 

“ Tom, Tom ! Poor Tom ! ” 

Tom winked and shrugged his shoulders as if he 
thought me a humbug. I patted his head and said : 

Good Tom ! There, Tom ! ” 

He turned one eye — he thought he heard a 
chicken. I said: 

“ Be still, Tom ! Good Tom ! ” 

Tom licked his lips, cracked his teeth together, 
shifted his weight from one elbow to the other, 
blinked at a fly and put his head on his paws. 

I did not like that, so pulled up his head, and spoke 
very sternly. 


Tom and Others. 


77 


“ Be still, Tom ! Be still, sir ! ” 

He looked at me as much as to say, “ Oh bother ! ” 
But he let me hold his head and pat it. 

Tom behaved like a gentleman, or an old Tabby 
cat; and we were having the nicest kind of a time 
when that great six-footer of a man had to come back. 
He was always getting between Tom and me, and 
now, after going for that cage and bringing it half 
way, had taken it back and put it in the old corner 
and come to conquer Tom. To conquer Tom with¬ 
out a stick ! 

I thought this great folly, but gave up my place 
and asked him to keep quiet until I brought his stick. 
I intended to bring a stick true enough ; yes, two 
sticks, and one would have a good heavy hatchet on 
one end. 

When I reached the hall there was a struggle in 
the dining-room. The women up-stairs screamed. 
There was a smash, a crash. Tom was through the 
window and had taken the sash with him. 

I reached the front door in time to see his tail dis¬ 
appear around the corner of the house. Before I got 
to the corner the ex-master passed me. Tom was in 
his cage and nobody hurt. 

He had a new collar and chain after that. The 
corn crib was cleared out and he chained in it. 


78 


To?n and Others. 


Here he had room to walk, but not to spring, and 
could not break his fetters. He lived in the corn 
crib a long time; had as many visitors as a congress¬ 
man ; held levees every few days, and improved his 
voice in the evening, and became a great vocalist. 

There were no steam whistles in those days, but 
Tom gave promise of things to come in the region of 
sound. 

One day I had good news from Tom, the first I 
ever had heard of him. 

He was sick! 

Next day the news was better, and Tom was 
worse. 

Next day it was still better — he was much worse. 

The next, — his skin was stretched on sticks and 
hung in the garret. 

This cured me of ever wanting to live on the up¬ 
per floor of the house. 

This is the end of Tom’s story. 







CHIPPERNIP. 


T HE people of Boston found that the squirrels 
which were put on their Common a few years 
ago were the deadly enemies of the birds; so, bright 
and cunning as they were, they all had to be sacrificed. 

They are, however, near neighbors in our woods. 
There is no lack of birds on Skitchawang mountain, 
and it is a famous place for squirrels; whether they 
ever molest the birds or not I cannot tell, but the dif¬ 
ferent species quarrel with each other and among 
themselves. I have often seen a red squirrel chasing 



Chipper nip. 


8 ° 

a chipmunk to and fro through the woods, up and 
down trees, over fences and under brush-heaps, almost 
as rapidly as my eye could follow; and I once saw an 
old red squirrel carrying off one of her young in her 
mouth as a cat carries a kitten. She seemed to be 
fleeing from some enemy, I did not inquire too closely 



what, lest it might be one of the rattlesnakes which 
infest the mountain. 

A pair of old grays had their nest near the school- 
house last summer. We used to see them every other 
day on the fences, or on the roof, and, as she was 
never disturbed, she grew quite tame; but, search as we 
might, neither teacher nor scholars could ever find her 
nest. Other squirrels used to come into the school- 
yard to pick up bits of bread and cake which the 
scholars threw away while eating their dinner. Dur- 




Chippernip. 


8 1 


ing the autumn we ate many water-melons, and the 
squirrels feasted on the seeds. 

The chipmunks, who are very provident, would fill 
their cheeks with them, and scamper away to their 
holes; but the others ate them on the spot, taking 
one seed at a time between their paws, sitting upright, 
and picking out the kernels with great rapidity. 

The song says : 

“ The squirrel is a pretty bird, 

He has a bushy tail,” etc. 

but I have seen one whose tail was as bare and more 
slender than a rat’s. He was a very young gray squir¬ 
rel, with hardly any hair on him, and had mere de¬ 
pressions instead of eyes. My brother got a pair of 
them from a nest in a big birch tree on the side of 
the mountain, and proposed raising them. He fed 
them milk and cream from a tea-spoon, but they were 
awkward and helpless, and one of them died in a few 
days. The other seemed likely to follow, when we 
called a family council, and, in despair, decided to give 
him to the cat! This was not quite as cruel as it 
sounds. We had at the time a very handsome tortoise¬ 
shell cat named “ Lady Lytton.” She was very intel¬ 
ligent, and we had taught her the respect due prop¬ 
erty in whatever form it might be. She never mo¬ 
lested chickens or ducklings which were sometimes 


Chippernip. 


S 2 

brought into the house, and once she allowed a swal¬ 
low, who had become unable to fly to sit a whole week 
on the edge of the kitchen wood-box. She had two 
little kittens in her warm nest in the shed, and there 
I carried the poor, shivering little squirrel; and ex¬ 
plained the case fully. 

“ Now, Lady Lytton,” said I, “you must take care 
of little Chippernip ; he is hungry and cold and he has 
not any eyes. Do phase try and see what you can do 
for him.” 

Lady Lytton spread her white furry arms and took 
him in, washed the sour milk from his poor little face, 
and gave him part of the kittens’ supper. From that 
time Chippernip was. provided for. In about three 
weeks his eyes opened, and he soon began to run 
about the shed. Puss was always, more anxious about 
Chip than about the kittens. One night some wild 
cats came prowling about the shed. Litty fought them 
valiantly and drove them away. The next night, just 
at dusk, she brought Chip into the sitting-room, put 
him on the lounge and then went back for her kittens. 
We thought she was jealous because none of the fam¬ 
ily had visited her that day, so we played with them 
a few minutes and carried them back to the shed. 
She brought them in again directly, and continued to 
do so, as we carried them out, for some time. At last, 


Chippernip . 


S3 


despairing of making us understand the desperate state 
of things, she fled with Chippernip to the chamber, and 
hid him so securely that we could not find him, neither 
could he escape from his retreat. Lytton then went 
back to her kittens and spent the night, evidently 
understanding that they were in less danger than 
Chip, for she took him first each time. The next 
morning, as soon as the family had arisen, she went up- 



KIND LADY LYTTON. 


stairs with the greatest apparent anxiety, and brought 
him, after which we made her bed in a more secure 
spot. 

She used sometimes to punish her kittens severely, 
yet I never knew her to get out of patience with Chip 
but once. She was lying on the flower-stand, where 
she usually took her day-time naps; and he would 
pounce upon her from the window-sash, the oleander, 
and every other eminence within several yards. She 



84 


Chippernip . 


moved from the flower-stand to the rocking-chair, and 
from there to grandma’s easy chair, but none of them 
were too far away for one of Chip’s leaps ; he came 
flying through the air, with his tail — now grown 
bushy enough — floating like a comet’s behind him \ 


CHIP “doth murder sleep.” 



lighted on her head or her back, bit her ears and her 
tail, and was away in a twinkling, making ready to 
repeat the performance. At last puss thought for¬ 
bearance had ceased to be a virtue. She caught him 
in his next leap, held him with one fore-paw, and with 
the other she cuffed him long and well, then went to 


Chipper nip. 85 

% 

finish her nap on grandma’s bed, where, as a great 
treat, she was sometimes allowed to sleep. 

Chippernip used to have fine frolics with the kittens; 
what he lacked in strength he made up in activity. He 
would cry out while they rolled him over and over on 
the floor, and climb to the highest point within reach, 
where he panted for breath; but, as soon as he re¬ 
gained it, he sprang down upon them, eager to renew 
the tumble. 

Chip was a great mimic. He imitated the cats in all 
unusual motions, and once, when mother was winding 
yarn, he watched her intently a few minutes, and then, 
sitting erect, he began to twirl his paws, keeping time 
with her hands. When she stopped to untangle her 
skein he watched to see what she would do next, and 
when she began winding he went on twirling his paws, 
and keeping time as before. 

Chippernip was never very fond of the food pre¬ 
pared for the cat; and one day, when I gave him a 
piece of sweet apple, he evidently made up his mind^ 
that he would never eat any more “ cats’ messes.” He 
ate raw apples after this till one day I gave him a baked 
one, after which he refused raw apples altogether. 
Then he ate successively apple and pumpkin pie, 
ginger-bread, rice and bread pudding, and other 
things — always refusing all but what was his prime 
favorite at the time — till the nuts were ripe. 


86 


Chipper nip. 


My brother brought him some chestnuts one day — % 
this was food fit for the g6ds, Chip thought. He had 
his supper of them, and the rest were saved for his 
breakfast; but alas ! his keen sense of smell told him 
where they were, and he climbed up to the pocket 
containing them, devoured the whole of them, and 
went to sleep on the shells. 

He paid dearly for the theft, however, for they made 



SUMMARY MEASURES. 


him deathly sick, and he spent all the next day lying 
prone in the notch between the two roofs, scolding 
and chattering at every one who came in his sight. 
Perhaps he learned not to ,eat so many, but he cer¬ 
tainly did not lose his taste for nuts or his inclination 
to steal them. He always found out where they were 
and possessed himself of them, and when the rightful 
owner came he found only the empty shells. He ate 
chestnuts mostly, but he would gnaw through a hick- 



Chippernip. 


37 


ory or butternut, and sometimes he would bite an 
acorn, shell and cup and kernel, into little bits, but I 
never knew him to eat even a single bite; hunger 
would probably have brought him to it, but he was 
never forced to it. He never damaged the furniture, 
but would often spend half an hour gnawing a bit of 
stick. It was necessary for him to gnaw some hard 
substance, I suppose, for the teeth of the Rodents — 
to which class the squirrels belong — are constantly 
growing, and unless worn away will cause serious 


damage. 

After Chip considered himself too big to sleep with 
the kittens he found several beds which he occupied 
for a night or two; sometimes in the pocket of a 
coat or dress, hang¬ 
ing in one of the 
bed-rooms, some¬ 
times in a hat or cap 
or shawl on the hall 
table; but at last he 
settled down to the 
habit of lodging 
under the counter¬ 
pane of grandma’s 
bed. He always had a frolic out-of-doors just at 
sunset, after which he climbed up the scarlet run- 



CHIPPERNIP RETIRES. 



88 


Chippernip. 


ners and went in at the top of the window; the upper 
sash of which was always left open a couple of 
inches for his accommodation. 

He used generally to take his mid-day naps in some 
one’s pocket — long naps they were too, lasting some¬ 
times for hours ; no matter how rudely he was jostled, 
or how noisy the work we engaged in he was never 
disturbed. Sometimes we took him out in this way 
to make a call, but he never liked it, and seldom ran 
about in a stranger’s house, but much preferred to 
creep back into the pocket, and never felt quite easy 
till he found himself safe at home. 

With all his bright and clever ways I am forced to 
acknowledge that Chippernip had a very bad temper. 
It was no uncommon thing for him to get angry with 
some member of the family, and hold his wrath for a 
week. At times he would be in good temper with no 
more than one person, to whom he went for all favors. 
He never asked to go out or in as the cats did, but 
would take advantage of their cries, and was very 
angry if the door was shut before he passed through. 

Strangers he despised, and when there were vis¬ 
itors in the house he used to spend his time in the top 
of a large apple tree overhanging the back door. 
However anxious we were to show our pet, no amount 
of coaxing could bring him down, rarely could the 
finest nuts tempt him within reach. If our guests 


Chippernip. 


s 9 


spent the night he took his supper at the corn-barn of 
soft pig-corn, then ran up the bean-stalk to bed; if 
they stayed several days he visited the family in the 
kitchen, where he was less likely to be disturbed. 

One day a neighbor’s child came to call. I was 



in grandma’s bed. 


ironing a dress that had been ripped into small bits 
Chip sat on the board and I spread the pieces over 
him as I ironed them. He would thrust his head out 
and watch me till I had nearly finished another piece, 
then run out to receive it while it was warm. 

He scolded a little when Charlie came in, but the 
fun was too good to lose, so we went on. Charlie en¬ 
joyed it very much, and could not resist the tempta¬ 
tion to try it himself, so he spread his little pocket 


9° 


Chipperjiip. 


handkerchief over him. Chip was out of his tent in 
a twinkling, with blazing eyes and bristling tail. If 
his strength had equalled his anger he would have 
been more dangerous than a Bengal tiger. He 
watched Charlie intently, running up and down on the 
edge of the board to keep as near him as possible, 
scolding and chattering with rage. 

Charlie was going home full of terror of the little 
fury, but I persuaded him to stay, and put Chip in 
my pocket, where he still kept a lookout from the top 
for his enemy. 

One bright Sunday morning, in November Chipper- 
nip was taking his usual run in the orchard, when 
some lawless hunters came by and, as we suppose, 
either caught or shot him,, for he never came up his 
ladder of scarlet runners to grandma’s bed any more. 


A TRUE STORY ABOUT PETS. 



O NE cold night in 
February, while we 
were sitting around the 
cosy fire, we heard a 
noise at the window. 

On opening it we 
found a little speckled 
hen, brown and white. 
We took the shivering, 
benumbed little creat¬ 
ure in and cared for 
her. She stayed about 
the house all winter, and 
in early spring she made 
herself a nest down in a cosy corner of the wood¬ 
shed, and after a while we gave her thirteen large 
Brahma eggs to sit on. 

The weather was very cold when she came off, the 










92 


A True Story About Pets. 


ist of April, leading six soft little chicks up to the 
kitchen door. One of the poor little babies lived 
only a few weeks, but the others were healthy and 
strong. It continued a cold, stormy spring, so we 
made a coop for the little stranger and her babies 
near the house and took fond care of them all. 

But what do you think ? When the babies were just 
three weeks old their naughty little mother left them, 
left them to care for themselves, so they" never 
learned a great many things that all well-brought-up 
chickens are taught. For one thing, they never 
learned to roost, but would nestle together on the 
ground, just as if the mother-hen were about to cover 
them with her warm feathers. 

We had to give them all the more care because 
they were so helpless, and we petted them a great 
deal. We fed them choice bits from the table, espe¬ 
cially meat, of which they were very fond. While 
they were still quite young they learned to stand in a 
row in front of me, and take their meat in turn, so 
that all would be served alike. Sometimes we would 
take them in our laps and rock them, and often held 
them in our warm hands and petted them, out in the 
yard. They seemed to enjoy it all as much as kittens 
would. 

As they grew older we gave them names. There 


A True Story About Pets. 


93 


were three roosters and two hens. One of the roost¬ 
ers we named “ Nicodemus, ,, because he always 
seemed anxious to look into matters. He was always 
peeping about into boxes and corners. He was so 
tall he could reach up to the top of a table and peck 
at things upon it. 

Sometimes when we forgot and left things within 
reach upon the kitchen table, he would step in and 



THEY LEARNED TO STAND IN A ROW. 


help himself very freely. He grew to be so large 
and fat, perhaps on account of the goodies he stole, 
that he could only walk a little distance without sit¬ 
ting down upon the ground to rest. 

Another rooster we called “ Zaccheus ” because he 
was the only one that ever learned to climb at all, and 


94 


A True Story About Pets. 


he never got any higher than the saw-horse. But he 
made it up by stretching his neck alarmingly, so that 
he stood as tall as two roosters ought to be. He, 
too, was a fine and very large rooster. 

But the “ cock of the walk ” was “ Captain White.” 
He was a pure white fowl, with the exception of some 
fine feathers in his tail and a bright red head-piece. 
The Captain knew very well that he was a handsome 
fowl, and strutted about and asserted his rights in a 
very dignified manner. 

The largest of the two hens we named “ Snow¬ 
flake,” because she really was as white as pure snow, 
and she went about so softly she scarcely seemed to 
touch the ground. She was a large, noble creature, 
and took a motherly care of her brothers and sister, 
always trying to destroy all jealousy between them. 
There was sometimes a good deal of this on account 
of the pet of the yard, our handsome little “ Beauty.” 
She was a vain, happy little hen, and dearly did she 
love to stir up a fuss for Captain White to settle. It 
was really a very happy family, except when Nick or 
Zach were too attentive to their sisters; then Captain 
W T hite very soon showed them their proper places. 
He never fought until he thought it positively neces¬ 
sary, and then he did it up in such a thorough way 
that it lasted. Indeed, he had perfect command over 


A True Story About Pets. 


95 


the brood. He always insisted on walking between 
his two sisters, making poor Nick and Zach follow 
meekly behind. They might scratch for their sisters 
if he were by, but let them try it when he was rest¬ 
ing somewhere ! Then what a fuss he would ipake ! 
He would fly toward them on the wings of the wind. 



It was laughable to see the squabble and hear the 
scolding and pleading. Snowflake always did her 
best to make peace, and always succeeded, at last. 

But the chickens had one trouble that they could 
not get rid of. My kitten, “ Fairy,” was forever 
teasing them. 







9 6 


A True Story About Pets. 


When they were in line, eating their meat, Fairy 
would suddenly jump into their midst from some 
place in which she had been hiding, and when she 
had excited a great cackling and general disturbance, 
she looked so satisfied and so amused. 

Our neighbor, Mrs. Grey, had a garden, and all 
summer we kept the fence tightly stopped near the 
ground so that the chickens could not get through ; 
and as they never learned to fly two feet they did not 
often get over on the other side. When they did, we 
always went over and drove them home at once. In 
the autumn Mrs. Grey wished them to come over 
and pick up bits about the yard. They were so 
pretty she said it would be a pleasure to look at them. 
So we took off the lower board of the fence that they 
might go through, but they would only all get fairly 
over when Fairy would go after them and drive every 
chick home; and when that was accomplished she 
would look as wise and cute as could be ! 

When Captain White procured some choice bit, 
and called the rest to share, Fairy would wait until 
they were all busy eating, and then suddenly she 
would run right in among them, and disperse them. 

Fairy played a great many pranks beside teasing 
the chickens. One day in autumn she was sitting on 
the porch near a great sycamore tree. The large 


A True Story About Pets. 


97 


leaves were falling to the ground, and Fairy would 
watch each leaf as eagerly as if it were a mouse, and 



the moment 
it touched 

the ground would pounce 
upon it, and picking it up 
in her mouth, carry it 
round to the back of the house, where there was an 
empty basket. Into this she kept putting them until 
it was full. What her object in this was, I never 
knew. 

She delighted to sit on my lap and have me rock 
her and sing to her. 





9 » 


A True Story About Pets. 


As long as I sang in a low voice she would sit still 
and purr, but as soon as I sang loud, or high, she 
would jump up and put her paw on my mouth as 
much as to say, “ O, do stop that noise! ” 

One winter she slept on the foot of my bed. 
Every evening at nine o’clock she would mew at the 
door for me to open it, and would go up-stairs to 
bed. I don’t know how she knew when it was nine 
o’clock, but she seldom made a mistake. In the 
morning, if she wanted to go out of the window be¬ 
fore I was awake she would come and waken me. 

When I made my bed, I either was obliged to shut 
her out of my room or allow her time for a regular 
frolic. As fast as I would smooth the feather bed 
she would jump upon it and disarrange it; and when 
I threw on the covers she would catch hold of them 
and try to pull them off. I would allow her this fun 
for a while, and sometimes she would stop after a 
good romp ; but oftener I had to put her out before I 
could arrange the room. 



THE TRUE STORY OF A TAME CROW. 



NCE upon a time there was a round-faced, 


Vw-/ brown-eyed boy whom we will call Tom, be¬ 
cause that was not his name. 

He was so tender-hearted he cried when he saw 
the seamstress cutting up his father’s coat, as if he 
thought his father was being dismembered. Before 
he could speak quite plainly he could repeat: 


“ If ever I see, 

On bush or tree, 

Young birds in a pretty nest, 

I must not in my play 
Steal the birds away, 

To grieve their mother’s breast; ” 


o 




ioo The True Story Of A Tame Crow . 

and with such pathos there were tears in his voice. 

I said in my haste : “ This is a boy without any 
depravity, who will grow up the champion defender 
of all helpless creatures.” 

Now when this boy, “ without any depravity,” was 
twelve years old, what do you think he did ? 



A CAP FULL OF CROWS! 


He brought home from the woods near by a cap 
full of unfledged crows / 

You will say a change had come over his spirit. I 
should think so! It came in the way of a strong 
temptation. When Tom wanted anything he wanted 
it dreadfully. Somewhere Tom had read or heard 
that the crow was a bird of superior intelligence, and 
could be taught to talk. The idea of training a bird 
to say, “ Molly, put the kettle on ! ” took possession 
of Tom’s vivid fancy. He began to ponder upon 


The True Story Of A Tame Crow. 


IOI 


wide possibilities in the intellectual development of 
crows. He wandered daily to the woods with his 
younger brother, and together they watched a pair of 
crows building their nest. The boys formed their 
own plans and kept their own counsel. 

Upon a certain day in April, when the eggs had 
been hatched about two weeks, the old birds left the 
nest and sailed out of sight. 

“ I think they have gone to catch fish in Jamaica 
Bay,” said Tom. 

“ Now is your time,” said the brother, twitching 
his Scotch cap off from his yellow curls and handing 
it to Tom. 

Tom tucked the cap under his arm and climbed the 
cedar-tree that held the nest. He looked in. Five 
red throats opened almost wide enough to swallow 
him. As they gaped they screamed. Tom’s bright 
eyes grew greedy considering which he had best 
take. 

He reflects : They have no feathers. One bird 
alone will be so cold — and lonesome. Besides, it is 
such a curious sight. Their throats look like a bunch 
of red tulips. His brother must see them ; yes — he 
will take them all! 

This passed through his mind quickly. The old 
birds could not have been far off, for while he was 


102 


1'he True Story Of A 1'ame Crow. 


transferring the last one they attacked Tom with fury* 
How he came down with any eyes left in his head is 
a mystery. They summoned all the crows in Queens 


County, and there 
was more cawing 
than at a political 
caucus. For 
hours the woods 
resounded with 



agpiM screams. 

Naturally you 
will ask how Tom 
silenced the reproaches of his 
conscience ? In the same way 
all robbers do, whether boys, 
men or nations. He raised the 


THEY ATTACKED TOM ! 


cry of philanthropy. He argued in this wise : “ It is 
true that you, Tom Stuart, have removed these young 
birds from the parental crows’ keeping, but you have 
done it with the high motive of improving their con¬ 
dition.” 

And let us not be too hard upon Tom for his spe¬ 
cious self-vindication. Only the other day a party of 
Statesmen went off bird’s-nesting to Berlin, and Lord 
Beaconsfield, the great English premier, came home 
with the Island of Cyprus in his pocket — a very fine 


The True Story Of A Tame Crow. 


chicken, which he is going to take care of for its 
mother, Turkey. 

I will do Tom the justice to say that he looked 
tenderly at his helpless dependants, and resolved 
himself into a whole Orphan Asylum for their care. 
But he found that being an Asylum for Orphan Birds 
is no sinecure. Those five mouths were always 
stretched for “more,” and their nutriment was limited 
to raw flesh and raw fish carefully minced. The first 
week all his spending-money went to the butcher. 

Reluctantly he gave his neighbor, little blue-eyed 
Dora, the crow of brightest promise. The very next 
day Dora’s brother — almost a baby —- dropped a 
marble into the gaping throat and thus ended 
fledgling Number One. 

Numbers Two and Three were given to his friend 
Harry, who, having theories of his own, experimented 
with their nourishment and they died of indigestion. 
A carpenter who came upon the place to repair a 
sail-boat is suspected of carrying off Number Four. 
But Number Five surnamed “ Dick ” remained, and 
is the subject of this Biography. 

Having safely passed the fledgling stage he be¬ 
came a very miscellaneous feeder, fond of meat, fruit, 
grain and shell-fish. I think perhaps there was noth¬ 
ing he ate with so royal an* appetite as a raw clam. 


104 The True Story Of A Tame Crow. 

He had a set of hooks at the root of his tongue with 
which he could raise up anything he had swallowed 
if, upon second thoughts, he concluded to make room 
for something else he liked better. Once he swal¬ 
lowed a whole string of currants. He seemed 
dissatisfied — thought about it — hooked it out — 
picked off and rejected one withered currant, and 
then, with great gravity, swallowed the string over 
again. He helped himself to ripe pears from the 
tree, scolding loudly if anyone else took any ; never 
ate a bunch of grapes, but selected the best and 
ripest from all the bunch; picked every reddening 
tomato and pepper, not, I think, because he liked the 
taste, but on account of his love for bright colors. 

After his last brother was stolen by the carpenter, 
Dick became as intimate with the family as a dog. 
He never left home — which was a place of twelve 


acres — except in the company of 
a flock of pigeons that lived over 
the stable. They tolerated his 
attendance with an air of aversion 
as though he were an intruder of 
some low Ethiopian family. 



But Dick was a great deal 
he seemed dissatisfied, handsomer and more aristocratic 
than the whitest of the doves. 
His head was a beautiful shape, with a large brain 


The True Story Of A Tame Crow. 105 


ancl an eye of fine intelligence. His perfect health 
showed in glorious blue-black plumage. Every 
feather was brighter than silk. 

In the old burial of Cock Robin the crow officiated 
as Parson. There was nothing parsonic or funereal 
in the tastes of our Dick. He was a wag. If Pussy 
lay stretched asleep in the sun Dick would steal up 
and give her tail a sudden tweak. When she started 
up and looked about in angry surprise he would be 
standing off, blinking with such an air of innocence 
even feline suspicion did not fall upon him. 

A half witted servant about sixteen years old enter¬ 
tained a superstitious fear of Dick. He divined it 
and made that 
girl’s life a bur¬ 
den. It was her 
business to 
gather vege¬ 
tables and fruit 
for dinner. 

When she began 
to pick peas 
Dick would 
swoop down 

SAIL OUT OF HER REACH. 

from some dis¬ 
tant tree, clutch her shaker bonnet from her head, 




io6 The True Story Of A Tame Crow. 

sail out of her reach, then drop it and jump upon it 
with mad, furious fun — while her frantic shrieks 
would inform everybody in the neighborhood of the 
whimsical performance that was going on. She was 
the only person afraid of him, and he persecuted only 
her, though he did not refrain from practical jokes 
upon his best friends. 

Tom kept very intimate relations with his grand¬ 
mother. He carried on most of his enterprises under 
her sitting-room window because he liked to talk with 
her and he found it convenient to borrow certain 
articles she kept at hand. Once, when she made a 
visit to Staten Island and was gone several weeks, 
Tom was found sitting outside her door looking so 
desolate his mother asked him what was the matter. 
“ I do wish grandma would come home and bring her 
string-bag I” he said, in the most injured manner. 

Grandma wore a wonderful pocket, in which she 
carried a knife, a pair of round-pointed scissors, and 
a pincushion that looked just like a red tomato. 
Tom was making a kite. As usual he was under her 
window. He called: 

“Grandma, will you let me take your red pin¬ 
cushion ? ” 

She handed it down to him, saying: 

“ Be sure and bring it back. Remember, you have 


a lame grandmother who cannot run after her 
things.” 

He gave his promise with utmost sincerity. No 
sooner had he laid it beside him than Dick rose with 
it in his beak, alighted on the barn and planted it in 
the gutter, covering it with wet leaves. He did the 
same with a letter that was to be sent in haste to the 
post-office. The magpie nature stood out strongly in 
Dick, and nothing could be funnier than his air of 
business and mystery when he thought he was hiding 
some stolen thing. He chose a rustic basket that 
crowned an old stump for his bank. Here he 
secreted pieces of china, bits of glass, several but¬ 
tons, two or three pennies, and some large bright 
beads. If anyone approached this safety-deposit he 
came screaming to the rescue. 

Tom had a way of throwing himself on his face at 
full length in the orchard. Dick would walk over 
him, nip his ears and pull his hair, and never give up 
his investigations till Tom rose up laughing, to con¬ 
vince Dick that nothing was the matter. 

Tom’s brother had a curious, troublesome idiosyn- 
cracy. The boy was always absent at meal-time. 
When the family assembled at dinner this lad was 
always missing. The half-witted girl would be sent 
ringing a bell through the grounds, like a town-crier, 


10S The True Story Of A Tame Crow. 

for the delinquent. Invariably he was found in the 
deep grass catching grasshoppers, which he fed to 
Dick sitting upon his shoulder, who received and 
swallowed them as coolly as if boys were created 
especially to serve him with grasshoppers. 

One peculiar characteristic of Dick was, that he 
never showed any fondness for the ladies of the fam¬ 
ily, but was all devotion to the lords of creation. 
When the gentleman of the house sat reading 
upon the piazza, Dick would hop upon the arm of 
his chair, pull his paper, peck gently at his eye¬ 
glasses, croon confidentially in his ear, untie his shoes, 
and in a dozen ways court his attention. He never 
would go to bed until he had first flown to his master 
and received from him a caress for “good-night.” 

He had perfect confidence in human beings and 
never showed any fear of them, not even of stran¬ 
gers. If by chance, however, wild crows came about 
he was terrified ; and, what is singular, they seemed 
equally to fear Dick. Once, when a hen-hawk cir¬ 
cled overhead, he flew to the gardener and clung to 
his neck with cries of alarm that seemed half 
human. 

It was a custom of Tom’s family on fine Sundays 
to walk the mile to the village church. In October 
dawned such a day when every condition of nature 


The True Story Of A 7 'ame Crow. 


109 

made the walk a delight. Father and mother with 
the children set forth. Dick was in his most 
sociable mood and resolved not to be left behind. 
Was ever before seen such an odd escort for a family 
going to church ? This great, black, glossy bird 
sailed just overhead, alighting on fences, evidently 
considering himself as good a Christian as a white man. 

After some bright speculation about the probable 
sensation if Dick should be allowed to enter church, 
Tom was sent to take him home. A wild cherry tree 
grew beside the gate. It was Dick’s habit to perch 
here when he felt lonesome, to watch for his friends. 
This Sunday after his return he mounted this out¬ 
look. Tom’s grandmother saw him from her win¬ 
dow. Suddenly the stillness was broken by a gun. 
Dick was not to be seen. The Spitz dog was bark¬ 
ing furiously. The witless servant ran out and saw 
two vandal sportsmen disappearing down the road 
with guns. Doubtless they carried away the body of 
our dear Dick in their murderous hands. No citizen 
of the neighborhood would have pulled a trigger to 
harm him. It was a wanton deed by stragglers from 
the city, who, I dare say, never dreamed of the 
heartbreak that a whole family suffered over the fate 
of their confiding, affectionate, fun-loving “ Dick.” 



D O any of the Wide Awake boys take an inter¬ 
est in opossums ? 

During a protracted stay in Australia, I had many 
opportunities of observing the frolicsome gambols of 
these woolly elves of the forests. They were widely 
removed from the “ sluggish ” or “ stupid ” little crea¬ 
tures they seem to be in America. 

I have seen one of our fields left in the evening 
ready for the next day’s carting; the rich, heavy 
sheaves nicely set up and “capped” in compact 
shocks, running from end to end of a “ paddock ” of 
thirty acres ; and I have visited the same field in the 
morning, to be reluctantly convinced that my favorite 
opossums were really the mischievous imps all Aus¬ 
tralians consider them. 

Scarcely a line of shocks remained as it was; but 



Little Willie. 


m 


instead, numbers lay prostrate, the sheaves scattered, 
the bands untied, and the heavy corn beaten and 
trampled down, partly eaten, and scattered about in 
woful waste and disorder. 

The chief scenes of the destruction were within 
wide circles around several very large dead gum- 
trees, which had been singed and left to perish ; and 
up and down these trees, and among their great bare 
branches, and round about the shocks of corn, it ap¬ 
peared that the maddest of the opossums’ revels had 
gone on. 

I kept one of the common species, tamed, in my 
house for some months and I learned their trouble¬ 
some activity too well. 

One of our servants, when out at night shooting 
them, killed two does, — as the female opossums are 
called, — each having a young one in her pouch. 
And these he brought to me. They were then about 
two-thirds the size of an ordinary squirrel; grayish- 
brown, soft-furred, sweet-faced little creatures, and I 
was as delighted with my prize as a child, and di¬ 
rectly ordered a large tea-chest to be made into a 
cage with thin bars and a door on one side. 

As the man went on preparing the new abode, he 
observed quietly: 

“ Ah, Miss! I’ve known many a people as kep’ 


112 


Little Willie. 


tame ’possums, but never a one as wasn’t glad to be 
quit of ’em again ! ” 

This, however, I treated as most unworthy prej¬ 
udice and it diminished nothing of my zeal for the 
comfort of my poor little orphan pets. 

I gave them a warm bed of wool and fresh hay, in 
which they hid themselves during the day, clasping 
each other with their paws and tails into one round 
ball. I fed them with bread soaked in milk and 
sweetened ; but for the first few evenings I had to 
give it to them very carefully on account of their 
sharp little teeth and claws. Afterwards they fed 
themselves, picking a piece out of the saucer and 
holding it in their forepaws, which, as well as the 
hind feet, have the toes so long and slender as to 
seem just like fingers; and in these little creatures 
the texture and color of the skin was soft and fair, 
quite a delicate pink, like a baby’s fingers. 

They grew fast and played with each other at 
night, and after a time began to eat young corn, 
grass and parsley. One day, when clipping the thyme 
in my flower beds, I unfortunately offered them a 
small bit in blossom. One of them refused it; but 
the other ate a small sprig and coiled itself up to 
sleep again. A friend, dining with me that day, 
hearing me mention having given some thyme to the 
opossum, immediately said that it would die. 


Little JVillie. 


»3 


At night, when the cage was, as usual, carried in 
from the veranda to the hall, I saw that the one 
which had eaten the thyme was ill and would not 
touch its food. Its eyes were dim, its nose hot and 
dry. My attempts to relieve it were all unavailing 
and it grew rapidly worse, — not noticing the efforts 
of its little companion to rouse it up to play as usual, 
— and in the morning it was dead. 

The survivor, little Willie, continued growing and 
thriving well, and soon learned to unfasten his cage 
and let himself out into the hall, and then, such a 
scampering and scrambling and leaping and scuffling 
began, as no decent household who did not keep 
“ tame ’possums,” ever heard before. 

Up the wall and along the row of hat pegs, knock¬ 
ing off all the hats and parasols to begin with; then, 
before you had time to catch a glimpse of him, frisk¬ 
ing into the parlor, twisting his long tail over the top 
of a chair and swinging by it gently to and fro, till, 
suddenly, he takes aim at the sideboard, springs upon 
that, kicking off everything in his way, such as a stray 
decanter or vase of flowers ; then he runs around the 
back to the centre scroll-work where he sits plotting 
new mischief, though seeming wholly occupied comb¬ 
ing his whiskers with a forepaw. If my open work-box 
were on the table, he made it a rule to spring up, 
hook his tail into it, and straightway upset the whole 


Little Willie . 


114 

apparatus, flying before the scattered contents into a 
corner and peeping out like a sly, spirited, half-shy 
half-frightened child. 

At last we made a rule never to admit Willy of an 
evening until we were disposed to be idle. For to 
read, write or work, with this spirit of mischief in the 
room was impossible ; and he was restricted to the 
hall with a fresh, young wattle-tree (perpetually re¬ 
newed ), set upright in a stand for his special com¬ 
fort. 

Perhaps the drollest thing was, to see him at sup¬ 
per after he had attained the size of a cat, and was 
quite independent in his ways and manners. Willy’s 
tree stood close to the table where his cage and sau¬ 
cer of bread and milk were placed at night; and as 
he hung like a great live pendulum, swaying about 
from a high branch, he would stretch out one hand 
and, taking a piece of bread, proceed very composedly 
to eat it, with his head hanging down and his hind 
feet uppermost. The sight of my little playfellow 
swallowing his food in this topsy-turvy style, was 
enough to give anyone a fit of indigestion. 

Willy fully appreciated the delights of society, and 
used to make clamorous demands to be let into the 
parlor long before the appointed hour, by running 
around the architrave of the door and crying angrily 


Little Willie, 


JI 5 


from he top One night, to spi f e is ne contrived to 
slip into my bed room and remained peeping at me 
over the cornice of the bed, until I pulled on a pair 
of strong gloves and dislodged him. 

One evening, when the weather was very sultry, 
with constant lightning and distant thunder, Willy 
failed to appear and I sought him in vain. He had 
eaten his bread and milk and was gone. Every place 
was examined and we had given him up for lost, 
when 1 saw something, long and dark, hanging out of 
one of my father’s hats against the wall. This 
proved to be Possey’s tail. I would not have him 
disturbed and he did not move till daylight. The 
tempest increased to a fearful height; the lightning 
was, for seven or eight hours, literally incessant, and 
the simultaneous peals of thunder were deafening. 

Willy, with animal instinct, had doubtless known 
a storm was at hand, and, as if in the forest, he would 
have sought shelter in a hollow tree, so, now, though 
well-housed, he sought a place of concealment. 

Latterly he often opened his cage before the time 
when it was carried indoors; but I did not fear los¬ 
ing him as he always cantered into the house. But 
one evening, in going to his cage I found it open as 
usual, and my “bird was flown.” 

After this, we heard almost nightly an opossum on 


ii 6 


Little Willie. 


the roof, and things left outside were tossed about 
much in Willy’s scrambling style, so we believed the 
house still to be visited by its old inmate. But, 
though tempted by bread and milk, Willie never re¬ 
turned to his cage ; nor, I must candidly own, should 
I have cared to recover my pretty plague, could I 
have felt certain he was well and happy; for I had 
sometimes acknowledged that keeping one “tame 
’possum,” or a pet Phalanger, ( for so the zoologically 
learned term an opossum,) had given me a suffi¬ 
cient insight into their manners and habits in a do¬ 
mestic state. 





DANIEL. 

O DEAR! ” said Margie, “ I haven’t brought 
Daniel in! ” 

“ Why can’t you leave him out all night ? ” said I. 

“ O, because I’m so afraid a cat might catch him! ” 
Margie was already in bed, and so was everybody 
but me ; so I went softly down stairs, unlocked the 
front door, and stepped out on the long piazza. 

What a beautiful great moon ! what, dark shadows 
on the grass ! and how quiet! It seemed a shame to 
go to bed, and I hated to disturb Daniel, curled so 
peacefully into a feathery ball on his perch. 

But I lifted down the heavy cage, carefully, too, 
lest I spill water from his saucer, and he began, as 
usual when waked up, “ Took, took, took, took, took! ” 
in a sort of whispered clucking. I carried him to the 



Daniel. 


ii 8 

farthest corner of the kitchen, shutting every door as 
I returned, that the household need not be roused by 
him in the morning; and the last thing I heard as I 
left him in the dark was his cosy little “ Took-took, 
took took / ” 

This Daniel is a beautiful red-bird. Till I came 
to Kansas I did not know what a red-bird was. Of the 
many here, Daniel was my first acquaintance ; and I 
found him about the size and shape of a robin, a 
gray-red all over, except a peculiar black mark across 
the face and down on the throat, as if he had put his 
red beak through a black ring and held it there. 
His eyes are like jet beads, and on his head is a tuft 
of feathers which he can erect when he chooses. 
This occurs when he is excited in any way, whether 
startled, or vexed, or even when in very good spirits, 
as a horse moves its ears. A single feather is not red 
all through, except the long ones of the wings and 
tail, but is mouse-color, red-tipped. This undertone 
of gray softens and enriches the general vividness of 
hue. In winter Daniel was not very red, except his 
bill and breast; but as spring advanced he grew 
brighter and brighter, till he became gorgeous. With 
increase of color his voice returned also, which dur¬ 
ing the cold weather was wanting. 

Some boys caught him in a snare two winters ago, 


Daniel. 


l 9 


and gave him to my little daughter. I was reluctant 
to keep him imprisoned, but Margie begged so hard 
that I yielded, hoping he would escape some day. 
Red-birds are hard to tame, but under Margie’s lov¬ 
ing care Daniel seems to have forgotten his former 
freedom, and of his own accord returns to his cage 
after being allowed the range of the room. It is so 
funny at such times to see him look at himself in the 
glass on the bureau ! For a better view he will hop 

upon the pincushion, 
and there will gaze at 
the beautiful bright 
creature before him, till 
Margie has called me, 
and I have called Char¬ 
ley, and Charley has 
called Kate, and we 
stand there whisper¬ 
ing : “ Did you shut the 
door tight ? ” “ Do see 

him ! ” “ There, you’ve 
scared him off! ” “No, 
no,— he’s only turning around!” Suddenly, off 
he darts to the back of a chair, where he slips 
on its curved top till he slides off; but he re¬ 
covers himself before touching the floor, and, with 



At the Mirror. 










120 


Daniel. 


a dipping flight, gains the summit of the wardrobe. 
Here he “ views the landscape o’er," and decides on 
the German ivy as the next point he will visit. 

Now he is more picturesque than ever, on the 
broad window-sill in the sunlight, all tip-toe to reach 
over the brim of the tall 
pot-plants and take de¬ 
lectable little bites from 
the delicate green leaves 
whose color is such a 
contrast to his bright red! 

If I hadn’t shut fast 
all those doors to-night 
when I left Daniel, this 
is what I should hear to¬ 
morrow early, in clear¬ 
est, airiest tones : “ Pee- 
choodle, pee<r/wtfdle, pee- 
choodle, /^choodle! ” 

Then I should get another nap, by and by cut short 
by the quick staccato: Peechoodle, peechood’! 
peechoodle, pee! ” 

Another pause. 

Then, suddenly, “Peechoodle, peechoo’, —choo, 
choo, choo, choo , choo 1 ” 

Pause again: 






Daniel . 


121 


“ Rrwhit! r-r-r-whitt! you do, you do, you do ! You 
do, you do, you do 1 pr-r-r-r-r ! ”— the trill ’ way down, 
under his breath. 

This contents him a good while, so that I get ’most 
asleep again. Suddenly rings out a loud whistle 
whose wild-wood notes can not be put into human 
words ; and in despair at being broad awake in spite 
of me, I say aloud, “ O Daniel, Daniel! ” though 
Daniel is too far off to hear me, and might only feel 
pleased if he should. But by the time he purrs again 
I grow good-natured, for somehow that unique note 
makes me want to hug him ! 

A dozen times a day Margie exclaims in true West¬ 
ern phrase, “Just listen at Daniel, mamma!” and 
again, “ O, I think he is so cute ! ” And in view of 
her pleasure and his apparent content I cannot find 
it in my heart to let him loose yet, although I always 
think, “ I will sometime, perhaps! ” 






SOME SPUNKY BIRDS. 

O UR cat’s name is Tige. It is short for Tigridia. 

He is spotted and marked like the elegant 
Tigridia blossom. 

We used to call him Nimrod, he was such a 
“mighty hunter.” The neighbors used to borrow 
him when their ratification meetings grew so noisy as 
to need a moderator. Sometimes Maria would come 
over from Mrs. Ems’, and ring the bell and say, “Is 
Tige at home? There’s mice.” 

And Mrs. Aitch would say, “ Can Tige spend the 
niMit with us ? We’ve rats.” 

o 

And the next day they would say, “ Much obliged,— 
he’s cleaned them all out.” 

But Tige is a changed and humbled cat; he is a 





SOME SPUNKY BIRDS 













124 


Some Spunky Birds. 


conquered cat, and conquered by — a pair of old 
robins ! 

They began a nest in the apple tree in our back 
yard, Tige smiled, for Tige, in his way, is very fond of 
birds,— especially at his breakfast time. He let them 
get their nest well under way and then he went for 
them. He crept up the tree, lay across the nest,— 
and waited. 

The robins came, and our hitherto invincible Tige 
found his Waterloo. 

They pecked his eyes, they pecked his nose, they 
pecked the top of his elegant head. Out of the tree 
he scrambled and fell, and they swooped down upon 
him and with their claws they pulled out great 
bunches of the handsome fur of his handsome back. 
He ran for the house, and they followed him to the 
very threshold. Then they filled the air with their 
angry opinions. They scolded, defied and threat¬ 
ened,— and Tige gave in. 

Now those robins hop close to our back door, and 
look saucily into our back windows. They are feed¬ 
ing their fledglings now. Tige sees the dainty mor¬ 
sels of their long tender necks — and walks away. 
He has given up the back yard to them, while he goes 
in and out the front way, and lies in the parlor, on 
his scarlet damask cushion,— a Conquered Cat! 


FRED’S PET. 


“A TOTHER ! grandma ! ” shouted Fred, rush- 

i-VA ing pell-mell into the house and clattering 
up-stairs. “ Come down, quick ! I’ve something to 
show you.” 

Mother and grandma obediently followed down¬ 
stairs and out on the west porch. There, in the 
grass, lay a little animal, black as a coal, with long, 
slender limbs, bright eyes, a small head, and lopping 
ears. 

Grandma, at the first glance, thought it was a ter¬ 
rier, and cried out in dismay — for she was afraid of 
dogs of any description. But her fears were speedily 
banished. It was a kid, which pet-loving Fred had 
bought for a trifle of a school-mate who rejoiced in 
the possession of a family of goats. 

Grandma at first demurred about keeping him; 
but she was seldom proof against Fred’s pleadings, 
and the arguments he always set forth on bringing 


126 


Fr.d's Pet. 


home a live acquisition of any kind, whatever: 

“You won’t let me have a dog, grandma! You 
might let me keep this, I’m sure. I’d rather, ten 

thousand times 
have a dog, but 
he’s better than 
nothing.” 

“Nothing! My 
dear boy, haven’t 
you Charlie t o 
ride almost any 
time ? And don’t 
you own hens, and 
pigeons, and rab¬ 
bits, and cats and 
kittens by the 

THE NEW PET IS WELCOMED. dOZCn ? You’d 

like a whole menagerie, I do believe.” 

“ I would grandma, first-rate. But, honestly, I’d 
give all the pets I have for a dog.” 

“Well, well, let the dogs alone while I’m alive, 
and you may keep the kid for all me. As to your 
mother, she likes it as well as you do I don’t doubt.” 

“ Mother ” was at this moment sitting on the grass 
holding the little creature in her lap, tenderly patting 
and talking to him. Mother's consent was always 





Fred's Pet. 


127 


taken for granted in Fred’s pet-enterprises. So it 
was settled that Billy should stay. 

“Though I don’t see what you want him for,” 
added the old lady. “ It’s not for beauty’s sake, any¬ 
way.” 

To be sure he was not very pretty at that time, for 
he was thin and covered with short, coarse hair that 
had no hint of gloss. 

But, as Fred said, he would grow; and grow he 
did, very fast, thriving on milk and clover. His 
young master had to teach him to drink, after trying 
vainly to borrow the baby’s nursing-bottle; and, after 
Billy had learned, he would not touch his milk unless 
it was warmed for him. He soon learned when to 
expect his breakfast and supper, and would trot up to 
the kitchen door, put in his head and bleat. When 
his milk was set down before him he knelt on his 
forelegs and lapped it very fast, wagging his little 
stumpy tail, dog-fashion, all the while. 

Sometimes, when the family were gathered around 
the table, they would hear soft, pattering footsteps 
along the entry and, presently, the door would be 
gently pushed open and a little black head appear, 
with pleasant, dark eyes, and a ludicrous gravity of 
expression. Billy usually waited, however, for an in¬ 
vitation to enter, and stood quietly looking from one 


128 


' Fred's Pet. 


to another till some one, generally grandma, said, 
“ Come, Billy ! ” 

She said it, to be sure, under protest, but the little 
creature’s mute pleading was more than her gentle, 
easy-to-be-entreated nature could withstand. His 
goatship had found this out, and little did he care 
whether anybody else wanted him or not. In he 
came, glad and triumphant as a child when some 
marked privilege is accorded, trotted around the 
room, rubbed his head against her, and then looked 
for his breakfast. 

The sight of a round tin dish was sure to raise his 



AT BREAKFAST. 

spirits, and even its standing on the stove was no 
hindrance in his estimation. With his forefeet se- 













Fred's Pet 


129 


renely resting on the heated iron in went his nose ! 
O, the shrieks that rang out ( from human lips ) the 
first time Billy touched the stove ! But his friends 
soon grew used to it and, finding he did not mind, 
concluded they wouldn’t, and he was allowed to help 
himself as he liked. 

One morning, when grandma was eating her break¬ 
fast alone, she thought she heard the cat behind her 

chair. “ S’cat!” 
she said ; but, on 
looking around 
no pussy was 
visible, only Bil¬ 
ly fairly mount¬ 
ed on the stove. 
He was dancing 
back and forth, 
eyeing the table 
and seeming to 
enjoy the clatter 
of his elfish lit¬ 
tle hoofs. Of 
course there was 
not a great fire, but enough to keep the dining-room 
quite warm and comfortable. 

Billy dearly liked to trot around the table and 



BILLY LIKES HIS MEALS HOT. 













Fred's Pet . 


13° 

be fed with tid-bits from the plates. Rolls or crack¬ 
ers, cake or pie, never came amiss. 

One day he jumped on the lounge, and then, with 
another spring, landed on the table without breaking 
or overturning a single dish. But those in authority 

decided that he 
had grown too 
large and active 
to be allowed in 
the house. Mas¬ 
ter Billy had no 
reason to com¬ 
plain, for he had 
the range of the 
whole farm and 
the barn, besides 
a stable of his 
“beat it who can! ” own that his 

young master had built for him, with a regular stall and 
crib like that of a horse, and supplied with hay for 
both food and bedding. 

But Billy was social and liked to stay with folks. 
As long as Fred would play with him outdoors he 
was satisfied, but if left alone he would watch his 
chance and slip into the kitchen. Sometimes, when 
grandma was sitting quietly at work she would hear 
him bounding up-stairs, and in he would rush like a 













Fred's Pet. 


* 3 ’ 

young tornado — shaking his head, and prancing 
about in high glee at his success. Then there would 
be “ a time ” getting him down again. There was no 
such thing as driving him, for he would go pell-mell 
over chairs and table, bed and bureau, with small re¬ 
spect for looking glass or china toilet-set. If Fred 
tried to pull him, he would set his feet like a don¬ 
key and hold back, and it did no good to scold or 
whip him. 

By dint of coaxing, crackers and candy, my young 
gentleman was usually lured down-stairs. He liked 
apples, and would sometimes come for these, but he 
could get them for himself under the trees, and much 
preferred to do so; for, if Fred offered him a very 
nice one when outdoors, he would sniff at it, leave it, 
and run off and help himself. He had a way of his 
own of getting into the bedroom over the kitchen. 
The wood-pile gave him a convenient footing, whence 
he would spring upon the shed-roof, jump into the 
window, and take a nap on the bed whenever he 
pleased. 

One day he jumped into the great wood-wagon 
and began dancing about on the loose boards. Pres¬ 
ently, his foot caught and he could not get it out. 
Katy heard his frightened cry and, leaving her din¬ 
ner, ran to his aid. She pulled out his foot, gently, 


1 3 2 


Fred's Pet. 


and he seemed really grateful. He remembered, too, 
and ever after kept clear of the wagon. 

Wherever he might be, even if a long way from 
the house, when any of the family called him, he 
would bleat instantly in answer, and come bounding 
along with all possible speed. He loved to browse 
in the sunshine, and was very fond of young leaves 
and small twigs. He would stand on his hind feet 
and reach up into the bushes and grape-vines, till his 
body was half hidden — a droll little image enough. 
When the baby put flowers and leaves in his hat-rib¬ 
bon, as he often did, they were pretty sure to be 
eaten off. And when Fred sat reading on the grass 
Billy would often come up behind him, put his fore¬ 
feet on the boy’s shoulders, and bite his hat or hair 
in play. 

He was always on friendly terms with one of the 
cats. Topsy, the black one, never could be won 
over to good fellowship. She spit at him to begin 
with, the first time she saw him, and he returned the 
compliment by a push with his head. His horns 
were then just beginning to grow. She was some¬ 
what frightened and ever afterwards gave him a wide 
berth. But Kitty Grey liked to play with him. He 
would chase her around the dooryard, and she would 
come right back to him as soon as he stopped, and 
start again. 


Fred's Pet. 


133 


He tried to play with the hens, but they did not 
appreciate his social feeling any more than Topsy 
did. He would dash in among them when they were 



s 


BABY IS ASTONISHED. 


eating their breakfast, and they would scatter in all 
directions; then he would walk off by himself and 
lie down, or begin to browse, wait till they came 
back and, in a twinkling, return to the charge. 


Fred made a light harness for him and taught him 


to draw a little wagon, but this took time and pa¬ 
tience. 

“ Why, mother,” said he one day, “ I never saw a 
goat learn like this one. The other boys knock their 
goats about, and thump and scold them ; and they 
tip over the wagon and run away, and do everything 
but draw. Billy does just as I tell him.” 







*34 


Fred's Pet. 


Fred had many a merry time with his four-footed 
playmate ; but, by the time the w T agon had become 
an old story, Billy grew so large and strong that 
grandma was afraid of him. He would run against 
her in his rough play, and almost throw her off her 



BILLY AND HIS NEW MASTER. 


balance. She was anxious, too, about her young 
trees, and could not bear to see the bark nibbled off ; 
so, she told Fred she would get a pet lamb if he 
would give Billy away. Fred knew a kind boy who 
would take good care of him, and was much pleased 
to have him. 

One day, some time after Billy exchanged owners, 
Fred saw him harnessed to a little wagon and wait¬ 
ing at the door of a grocery for parcels. Fred had a 
talk with the boy as he was putting in his load, and 







Fred’s Pet. 


*35 


found he liked Billy, but that his goatship would 
draw very well when he pleased, and not at all when 
he didn’t please. 

As he grows older “ Won’t ” is likely to predomi¬ 
nate over “ Will.” Let his young master enjoy his 
services while he can. 


THE PET SQUIRREL. 

O NE day, as Charley was walking in the woods 
near his home, he found a little gray squirrel 
lying on the ground at the foot of a pine tree. It 
was such a baby squirrel that he felt sure it had 
strayed away from its home in some hollow tree, and 
lost its way back. Charley’s first thought was to 



A FOUNDLING. 


hunt for the tree and find the nest and give the baby 
back to its mother; but, as he looked up, he saw a 
great black cloud in the sky, and felt a few spatters 
136. 





The Pet Squirrel. 


*3 7 


of rain on his face, so his second thought was to carry 
his foundling home. He tucked the little furry thing 
under his jacket, and ran homedo his mother. Ashe 
held the little creature against his heart and kept it 
warm there, he began to love it, and when he got 
home he asked his mother if he might keep it and 
take care of it and have it for his own pet. His 
mother consented, and told him she hoped he would 
always be good to the little orphan squirrel and never 
forget to give it food and drink and tender care. 

Then she hunted up a basket and a soft old blan¬ 
ket, that used to be wrapped around Charley himself 
when he was a baby, and she laid the blanket in the 
basket, so as to make a nice warm nest, and then she 
put the baby squirrel into it. 

Charley named him Dick, and then as he had a 
name and a nest, the next thing was to find him some 
supper. 

It was plain that Dick could not eat nuts, for he 
was a baby and had no teeth: perhaps he would lap 
milk like a kitten. Charley brought some warm milk 
in a saucer and put Dick’s nose into it, but that only 
made him sneeze. Charley began to look serious, 
and his mother thoughtful, but she smiled as she 
spoke : 

“ When babies lose their mothers they have to take 


138 


The Pet Squirrel. 


their milk from a bottle ; let us see if baby Dick will 
do that. Here, Charley, take this money and go to 
the drug-store and buy a nursing bottle.” 

Charley ran down street as fast as he could, and 
soon came back, out of breath, with the nursing bot¬ 
tle in his hand. 

His mother poured the warm milk into it, and put 
the soft rubber top into Dick’s mouth : and what do 
you think—he sucked away just like a little human 
baby, and I don’t believe he ever missed his own 
Bunny mother again.. Charlie was so pleased that he 
danced about the room for joy. 

At first Dick didn’t like the feeling of the bottle 
against his fur, so Charley’s mother covered it with 
soft flannel, and then Dick was completely satisfied. 
He would always put his baby paws around it and 
hold it close to him as he sucked away at his break¬ 
fast or supper. 

It was such a funny thing for a baby squirrel to 
use a nursing-bottle, that people who heard of it 
came from all directions to see the sight, and Dick 
was quite the wonder of the village. 

I am glad to say that Charley was very faithful to 
his little pet ; he never failed to have the milk warm 
and the bottle clean and ready, and Dick never went 
hungry. I wish all the babies in the world could have 


The Pet Squirrel ’ 


*39 


as good care as Baby Dick had. He soon grew so 
fond of Charley that he would not take his bottle from 
anybody else, and he would run all over the house 
after his little master. 

In a little while Dick grew into a very handsome 
squirrel. His fur was silver gray and very thick and 
glossy, his eyes were as bright as stars, and his tail was 



so broad and bushy that when he sat down and let it 
spread over him like an umbrella it covered him'all 
up, 

By and by his teeth came, and then he began to eat 
nuts. It was great fun to see Dick sit up on his hind 
legs with his great feathery tail waving over him, pick¬ 
ing up nuts with his little paws and cracking and eat¬ 
ing them so neatly. Everybody in the house petted 
the little rogue, and he led a very happy life. 







140 


The Pet Squirrel. 


Charley’s grandmother used to sit at the window, 
knitting, almost all day, and Dick had a trick of 
jumping into her lap. One day as he was lying on 
her lap he smelt a nut in her pocket, so he found his 



A SNUG RETREAT. 


way in and ate the nut and made a little visit there. 
After that grandmother took care to have a few nuts 
in her pocket every day, and roguey Dick found that 
out and made a real nest of grandmother’s pocket ;he 
used to run in and stay there a long time and keep 
as still as a mouse. Indeed, Dick was very fond of 
pockets. After awhile he got tired of sleeping in his 
basket, and took a fancy to the pockets of Papa’s 
overcoat. Every night when he was ready to go to 
bed, he ran to the hat-tree in the entry and climbed 











The Pet Squirrel . 


141 

into his pocket-nest, and slept there till morning. 
That was the nearest he could come to sleeping in a 
tree. 

But as Dick grew older he grew mischievous : he 
nibbled the corners of books like any little mouse, 
jumped into work baskets and upset them and even 
ran about in the pantry and left the tracks of his little 
feet on the pies and the butter. 

At last Charley’s mother said Dick was too big to 



stay in the house any longer and he must go away. 
Charley thought he would take him to the woods and 
leave him to be a wild squirrel like his brothers and 
cousins ; but Charley’s mother feared Dick had been 
spoiled for a wild life. She thought he needed some¬ 
body to take care of him, so she took him to a kind 
farmer who had a large farm and a great many pets. 







142 


The Pet Squirrel. 


The farmer was glad to have the pretty gray squirrel 
and Dick liked the farm and the country life. He 
lived very happily there till he was six years old, and 
then he died of old age. 


A PET BIRD. 


T HE parsonage, as it was called, was a large, old- 
fashioned, yellow house, on the summit of a hill. 
It was built a little back from the road, and had a 
door-yard in front, enclosed by a neat white fence. 
On one side was a flower-garden, with green fields 
and woods beyond. On the other side the silvery 
river wound, like a blue ribbon, around the hill, and 
across its waters gleamed the white village and church 
spire. Grand old elms shaded the house from the 
summer heat, and a black mulberry tree in the corner, 
with its wide-spreading branches, made a nice play¬ 
house for the children and gave them a yearly feast. 

For children there were —seven ! Four girls and 
three boys. And you may believe they had lively 
times. 

Their father was a country minister with the small 
salary of country ministers in those days — it was 
many years ago — and he had his hands full, aided to 


A Pet Bird. 


M 4 

the utmost by the thrifty mother, to feed and clothe 
them all. They had few books, and the beautiful toys 
children have now, were unknown. 

But there were stories told by the fireside in winter 
evenings ; there were sleigh rides and coasting frolics 
in plenty. There were home-made dollies and bits of 
crockery for dishes; carpenter’s blocks and shingle 
boats. And in summer there was merry out-door life 
all day long. 

They had pets almost without number ; the chick¬ 
ens, their own especial care ; the horse, that the girls, 
as well as the boys, rode bare-back without a thought 
of fear; a little brown dog, the best of playmates; 
cats and kittens, and the birds that came every day to 
be fed. Their nests were in almost every tree and the 
air was full of their glad music. They grew so tame 
that they would alight on the door-step or window-sill 
to pick up crumbs, tip their pretty heads one side and 
look up fearlessly with their bright black eyes into 
the faces bent over them. 

One day the girls found a young blue jay that had 
fallen out of its nest, or in some way lost its mother. 
They took him into the house and fed and tended him 
carefully, and he grew and throve till able to take 
care of himself. They never caged him, and after he 
was strong enough to fly he had his full liberty out¬ 
doors. 


A Pet Bird. 


H 5 


But the little creature did not forget the kindness 
he had received. He stayed near the house all sum¬ 
mer, flying in and out, as it suited him, perching on 
the shoulders of his friends, and following them about 
like a dog. 

Every morning regularly he flew into Anna’s win¬ 
dow, alighted on her pillow, and tapped her eyelids 



gently till she would get up and give him his breakfast. 
He was very fond of curd, and this she usually gave 
him. Why he chose her window was best known to 
himself, for he was the pet of the family ; but so it 
was and he never made a mistake. So Anna would 
take a piece of curd up-stairs at night, to have it 
ready for his birdship when he made his early call. 

When he had satisfied his appetite he would still 
linger, hopping about her room, now and then alight- 

















146 


A Pet Bird. 


ing on her shoulder or arm, asking in his own way for 
notice, and looking up in her face with his bright eyes 
when she talked to him, as if he understood every 
word. 

While she combed her hair he would stand on her 
bureau watching her, would pick up her hairpins and 
hold them, one by one, in his beak till she took them 
from him. He would take a lock of her hair and 



A FAIRY DRESSING-MAID. 


draw it gently through his bill, another and another, 
till it was all crinkled on one side, in a way that now 
would be quite fashionable ; then he would hop across 
the bureau and dress the other side to match. 

When she was ready he would fly out again or go 
down-stairs with her and stay socially with the family 
at breakfast, as happened to suit his convenience. Of 
course he had plenty to eat; and one morning, when 















A Pet Bird. 


T 47 

a larger piece of curd was given him than he could 
dispose of at once, he carried it into the study where 



the minister sat writing, in dressing-gown and arm¬ 
chair, and perched on his shoulder. The old man 
kept perfectly still and allowed him to do just as he 
pleased. Very carefully he lifted the collar of the 
dressing-gown, tucked in his curd snugly, and then, 
with an air of virtuous satisfaction, smoothed down 
the collar over it, and took his way out of the win¬ 
dow for his morning ramble. 

An hour or two afterwards he returned to the study. 
The minister still sat writing. The bird went straight 
to him, perched on his shoulder, lifted the collar and 
took out his property. 

It was no uncommon thing for him to follow the 


















148 


A Pet Bird. 


girls when they went to walk or visit their young 
friends; but what was their surprise and perplexity, 
one warm Sunday, to see him come sailing into 
church. Yes, it was their own pet bird—as was 
evident from his cool, society air as he surveyed the 



assembly perched on an old lady’s bonnet. In 
those days the bonnets were of a size sufficient to af¬ 
ford standing room for three or four like him. She 
gave a frightened start and bob, and off he went, but 
only from a brown-trimmed bonnet to a gray one, and 
was beginning to raise a gale among the younger por¬ 
tion of the audience, when the minister rose in the 
pulpit, and birdie, espying his old friend, flew directly 
to the well-known resting place on his shoulder. 

The next Sunday Anna shut up the jay in the attic- 
chamber. When she returned from church she went 











A Pd Bird. 


H9 


up-stairs to release him, never dreaming of having 
offended his majesty. But the moment she opened 
the door he rushed at her as fast as his wings could 
carry him, and, bristling with temper, gave her two or 
three pretty severe pecks with his sharp beak. This 



satisfied him, however; he never laid up any grudge, 
but was as friendly and affectionate as before. 

Well pleased was the roguish bird when he could 
find access to a work-basket. A spool afforded him 
great amusement. He would carry it off among the 
trees and with an end of the thread in his beak, fly 
from bough to bough, rolling it off and entangling it 
in the branches as fast as possible. No use to call 
him when thus engaged. He would come when it 
suited his own convenience. 








A Pet Bird. 


I 5° 

Several times he took possession of a thimble, 
much to its owner’s vexation, and when tired of play¬ 
ing with it, left it wherever he happened to be. Such 



ENDLESS ENJOYMENT. 


a search she would have in the grass to find it! It 
was provoking, indeed; but his friends winked at 
“ his ways.” 

When the autumn days were short and the nights 
chilly, he departed with a flock of his kind, to a 
sunnier clime. His friends missed him, and by their 
winter fire often mentioned him, recounting his pretty 
ways, and sometimes asking one another: 

“ Do you think he will come back ? ” 

But no one really expected he would fully remem¬ 
ber his old haunts and frequent the house as had 
been his wont. 

Spring came again, with its warm sunshine and fra¬ 
grant flowers and sweet bird-songs. One of the first 
pleasant evenings the family were gathered, just after 
tea, in the wide, old-fashioned porch. Suddenly a 
bird’s cry, a loud, joyous note, startled them for an 




A Pet Bird. 


15 1 

instant; and there, sailing over their heads, flapping 
his wings, alighting on one friendly shoulder and then 
another and another, rubbing his head against them 
to ask for caresses, and ever and anon uttering that 
eager, glad cry — there was their own blue jay. 

Every possible sign of delight the little creature 
showed. Perched on the branches close by, or the 
honeysuckle vine entwining the porch, he sang his 
sweetest songs. And he returned to all the old ways, 
flying in and out, and following his friends, as before. 


HENS IN A HORSE-CAR. 


T HE horse-car slowly tinkled its way up the 
broad city street. 

It was moderately filled with very daintily dressed 
people who, sitting fronting one another, were busily 
employed in pretending that there wasn’t anyone 
else there, and that they were as much alone as if 
they were sitting under a palm tree in the desert of 
Sahara, and palpably making a failure of such pre¬ 
tence by looking extremely conscious when one of 
those who didn’t pretend looked at them. 

The car stopped for the fortieth time or so, and a 
very large, red-faced woman lumbered in, followed 
by a very small boy, who stumbled along, treading 
on ever so many people’s toes, and ending by a 
plunge at a pursy little gentleman as the car got in 
motion; and the pursy gentleman indignantly re¬ 
jected him as if he were taking unwarrantable liber¬ 
ties, and gave him such an impetus that it brought him 


Hen's in a Horse-Car. 


*53 


down on a vacant seat very violently, jouncing a 
slight “ O ! ” out of his slender throat, and a loud 
squawk from the fluffy, brown hen that he was care- 



AN IMPROMPTU TABLEAU. 


fully carrying in his arms, showing that she, too, suf¬ 
fered violence. 

It happened that his seat was directly in front of 
his mother’s, and the two were so oddly accompa¬ 
nied, that everyone left off making believe that they 
didn’t see anything and began to stare at the new¬ 
comers with lively interest. 

Comfortably nestled down on each arm of the 
motherly, genial, old lady were a great white rooster 
and a little brown hen, snugly tucked away in the 
warm red shawl that enveloped her fat person, evi¬ 
dently wonted to be thus carried about. 

On the floor of the cnr there was a great pile of 







*54 


Hens in a Horse-Car. 


fresh straw* which so rustled and stirred as to ex¬ 
cite the rooster’s attention and, like the forecasting 
head of an active, needy family, he considered the 
place with "warm interest, tipping his head on one 



TRAVELLING IN COMFORT. 


side, and fastening his blinking eye knowingly on 
some spot that seemed likely to furnish food for his 
ravenous family. 

He tipped his head over to the- other side and 
searched with the other eye, to make sure, and then 
fluttered up a little and made various gutteral sounds 
down in his chest, at the same time turning about as 
if addressing himself to the slender brown hen, nestled 
so cosily down in her good-natured mistress’s lap. 

But the brown hen didn’t want anything to eat. 
Her appetite was quiet, and she meant to improve 
the time and warmth by taking a gentle nap; so she 












Hens in a Horse-Car . 


J 55 


shut up both her eyes, tightly, and tucked her head 
into the little nook that showed itself under the 
woman’s arm, and made her indifference so manifest 
that the rooster had to understand it. 

A new rustle in the straw attracted him again and 
he examined it anew, this time making such deep 
noises that they seemed to come from his very claws. 
They were instantly responded to by the fluffy brown 
hen the lad carried. 

She was of a more energetic character than her 
sister, and had already surveyed all the car passengers 
with a keen attention, and immediately replied to the 
rooster’s remarks, which, so far as they could be 
translated by an observer who was not a hen, meant 
that down there there was, plainly, an excellent feed¬ 
ing ground, with a great deal to scratch up, and sug¬ 
gestions of such tid-bits as hen-nature would delight 
in. 

There was no need for the rooster to put fine em¬ 
phasis to his insinuations, the fluffy hen was but too 
ready to join him in a friendly dig, and with all the 
impetuosity of her sex she was eager to take the first 
hop ; so, spreading her wings and uttering an exult¬ 
ant cackle, she started for the revel. 

Great was her astonishment when the boy would 
not let her go. She was evidently accustomed to in- 




liens in a Horse-Car. 


dulgence, and wonted to consideration as to her ap¬ 
petite, and had not been used to restraint. She 
cocked her head on one side, and fixed her bead-like 
eye on the boy as though she said, “ Do you really 



know what you’re about ? You never did deny me 
anything. Why begin now when there’s such a rich 
field ? ” 

The lad was disconcerted. He could not look 
back again into that eye. He cast an appealing 
glance at his mother. She assumed as severe a look 
as she could put on her broad, cheery face, and 
shook her head. 

There was, manifestly, a good understanding be¬ 
tween the members of this happy family, and the 
hen seemed to comprehend, with the boy, that, just 
















Hcjis in a Horse-Car. 


*57 


now, it was not considered best for her to get down. 

She resigned herself with reluctance and chuckled 
forth some remarks to the rooster, who continued to 
eye the straw and give note to what he saw there. 
Perhaps the force that restrained him was more po¬ 
tent than that which the fluffy hen felt. At least he 
yielded to it sooner, and scratched out a tumbled-up 
place ifi the woman’s gown and stirred it up well, 
and turned it about till it was just rough enough to 
suit him, then nestled his white head, with its great red 
comb, under a fold of her shawl and went to sleep. 

The little fellow grew weary of holding the fluffy 
brown hen, so he slipped along and cuddled her 
down on the car-seat beside him, where she curled 
up in a soft bunch and crooned out her satisfaction. 
But his mother was scandalized at such infringement 
of car regulations, in regard to children being held in 
the lap unless they paid full fare, and she shook her 
head energetically at him, and signalled that Biddy 
must be taken up again. 

Just then a much bedizened lady who had been 
closely observant, moved up to the kindly hen-wife 
and began talking to her in a low tone; but, as she 
grew excited, she raised her voice and was heard to 
say : 

“ Now, my little sick daughter would be sure to 


Hens in a Horse-Car. 


158 

like such fresh white eggs as your hens would lay, 
and I hope you can let me have some every week.” 

“ Indade, mem, and I can jest that. My man 
works at the brass foundry, an’ he goes by your 
house ivery day, an’ he can lave ’em jest as well as 
not. Sure, an’ we have a beautiful bit of a back 
yarrd an’ me little by kapes thim hins jest as clane. 
Why, he takes an’ turns a chair about wid the back 
to the table an’ Hippin, that’s the name of the hin 



he has in his lap, mem, claws hold of the roun’ in 
the back, an’ jest sits there like a Christian all the 
while he is atin’ his males. An’, truth for it, he 
kapes a tin plate for her, an’ she picks her corn and 
mate off of it ivery time he ates himself — indade an’ 
he does, mem.” 








Hens in a Horse-Car. 


*59 

Just then a mischievous lad on the platform of 
the car began a low cackling, ending in a loud shrill 
crow. The challenge roused the rooster from his 
sleep and, imagining that it was already morning and 
that he must have slept too long, he crowed lustily as 
fast as he could. This stirred up both the biddies, and 
they thrust out their long necks and twisted their 
heads about, and cackled so tumultuously that the 
car seemed full of hens. 

The good woman’s face turned as red as her hair, 
and that was very red indeed, and she hardly knew 
where to look; whilst her little son enjoyed the 
sport highly, and shook Hippin to make her cackle 
still louder. Just then the car was passing a block 
of shabby tenements, and the woman’s face bright¬ 
ened and she signalled to the conductor to stop the 
car, and she hustled her feathered family hastily to¬ 
gether and hurried them out into the open air where 
their noise would be less inflictive. 

The lad tossed Hippin up to his shoulder and they 
all disappeared in one of the low buildings, where, if 
there were a fine bit of a yard, it could scarcely have 
been larger than a horse-car floor. 


THE STORKS. 


I WAS once on a visit to the family of the good 
old pastor of a village in the northern part of 
Germany. The parsonage was a long, low, stone 
house, half covered with ivy and roses, which gave it 
a very picturesque appearance. It stood in the 
midst of a large garden, which in summer time was 
full of fruits and flowers. But when I first saw it, in 
March, the snow still lingered about the hedges, and 
the pastor’s children were eagerly counting the days 
until it should be Spring. 

On the south gable of the house, built snugly up 
against the warm chimney, was a stork’s nest. It 
was a rough, ugly pile of sticks and twigs, nearly as 
large as a baby’s cradle, and at this season was un¬ 
occupied. The pastor’s family told me that for 
many years past a pair of storks had been accus¬ 
tomed to spend the summer here, arriving always on 
the first of April, and leaving on the first of August 


The Storks . 161 

for a warmer southern clime. There were many lit¬ 
tle villages surrounding 
ours, each of which had 
one pair of storks in it, 
and the birds all arrive 
and depart together in a 
body on the same day. 

Many a story did the 
children tell me of their 
own special storks, which 
they called by the names 
of Hans and Mena , and 
seemed to consider as 
almost a part of the 
family. 

“ When the storks 
come,” said Bertha, “it 
will be Spring, and the crocuses will blossom. It 
is funny, but the crocuses always do wait for the 
storks.” 

One day there was a storm, with rain and lightning. 
The pastor’s wife was alarmed; for, in this flat, 
sandy country the lightning often strikes the houses, 
and sometimes whole villages are thereby consumed. 

“When the storks come,” said Fritz, “we shall be 
safe from the lightning, for it never strikes a house 
where there are storks in the nest.” 



WHERE IS THAT FALSE MENA ? 






2 


The Storks. 


This is the belief of many persons in Ger¬ 
many ; and they are, 
therefore, very glad to 
have the storks build 
upon their houses, and 
are very careful not to 
injure or frighten them 
away. 

In time the snow was 
all gone, and little brown 
leaf-buds began to swell 
on the trees, and a tinge 
of green showed itself 
about the garden and 
on the heath. 

One bright sunny day, 
as I sat writing in my 
room, a sudden glad THE AMIABLE MENA<? 

cry arose from the children in the garden : 

“ The storks ! the storks! ” 

I turned hastily to the almanac for the day of the 
month. It was the first of April. 

Looking from my window I saw on the lower roof, 
a few feet below me, a splendid large bird, with 
snow-white plumage touched with jet black and long 
legs and bill of a brilliant red color. He stood 











The Storks. 


163 . 


erect, turning his head from side to side with bright, 
sharp glances, as if examining what changes had 
taken place in his absence. Then, after waiting 
awhile, he threw his head back over his shoulder and 
struck his hard bill upon the strong hollow bone of his 
wing, producing a loud rattling sound, that could be 
heard at a great distance. He was calling his 
mate—for the stork has no voice, and this is the 
only sound that he can produce at any time. 

The children shouted, “ How do you do, Hans ? 
Welcome home, Hans! Where is Mena ? ” But 
Hans took no notice. He was apparently very un¬ 
easy, and for some hours kept up an incessant rat¬ 
tling. The pastor began to fear that poor Mena had 
perished by the way, as so many do in their annual 
migration. At length the bird took wing, and for hours 
could be seen slowly sailing, high in air, above the 
village and the heath, as if looking for his mate. He 
came back sad and dispirited, and moped till dark 
on the house-top refusing the food which we sym- 
pathizingly offered. Next morning he was off again. 
Evening came on, when, lo ! there was a rush and a 
flutter in the air, and a weary bird, drooping and 
bedraggled, descended to the house-gable and there 
rested, seemingly too tired to move. It was the 
missing Mena. 


/ 


164 The Storks. 

When Hans came home what a rattling and rejoic¬ 
ing there was on the house-top! And next day, 
when the birds had rested and dressed their plu¬ 
mage, how busy they became, cleaning and repairing 
their nest. Now, too, they lost their first shyness 
and became familiar as they recognized their old 
friends. Hans was always rather distant and proud, 
but Mena would come when called to be fed, just as 

the poultry did, and 
would sometimes even 
allow her back to be 
stroked. They would 
daily take long flights 
from home; and once, 
when we were riding on 
the heath, many miles 
away from our village, 
we recognized Hans and 
Mena stalking about a 
newly ploughed field, 
busily picking up the 
worms and grubs which, 
but for them, would have 
done mischief to the 

HAN j Rl?U3ES TO RECOGNIZE HIS 

neighbors. farmer’s flax and buck¬ 

wheat. We called to them, and Hans stood on one 










The Storks. 


i6 5 

leg and surveyed us with a surprised and haughty air, 
while Mena threw her head back and rattled. I 
suppose she knew us. 

If the birds had contented themselves with a diet 
of worms, and mice, and frogs, all would have been 
well. But they were also very fond of picking the 
bees from the flowers, when the little insects were 
busily gathering honey ; and would even stand near 
the hives at the bottom of the garden, and snap them 
up with a quick motion, as they flew in and out of 
the hives. We built a lattice around the hives, and 
this in a measure protected the little honey-makers. 
But it was not long before the birds were guilty of a 
greater mischief than killing bees. 

The children had other pets beside the storks. Fritz 
had a pair of rabbits, and Lina took great delight in 
watching and feeding the little brown sparrows which 
occupied the box in the great linden tree, whose 
broad branches spread over half the house. One 
day there was a great flutter and commotion in the 
linden, and on going out to see what could be the 
matter, we found all the sparrows darting in and out 
of the tree in great distress, while Hans with a very 
satisfied air, stood on one of the branches within 
reach of the box. We hastened to drive him away ; 
but it was too late. He had already thrust his long 


The Storks. 


166 

bill into each of the little round holes of the box, and 
devoured every one of the young birds. After that 
we placed the box in an¬ 



other part of the tree, 
against the side of the 
house, where he could not 
reach it. By and by more 
little sparrows came, but 
the stork never got an¬ 
other taste of them. 


Meantime Fritz’s rab¬ 
bits had a little family of 
twelve young ones — tiny 
creatures, scarce three 
inches long,soft and shin¬ 
ing as satin. They had 
their nest under the 
house, and had been 


there two weeks before ”ans shows himself a dangerous 


MEMBER OF SOCIETY. 


w r e ever saw them. And 

how delighted the children were when one day 
Mother Rabbit came forth with her dozen of little 
ones hopping and skipping around her. What a 
pretty sight it was, and how funny to see them all, 
on the least alarm, melt away as it were, from sight, 
and disappear into their hole like magic. All the 
children in the village came to see them, and never 
was boy so happy as Fritz with his rabbits. 









1 'he Storks. 


167 

But alas ! when some days had passed, on counting 
the young family, we found that one was missing. 
On the day following there were only ten, and next 
day but nine. What could have become of the 
rabbits ? 

1 was sitting in an arbor one morning, reading, 
when I observed the old rabbits come out from their 
hole, and I watched to see the little ones follow. 
How wild and shy they had lately become ! Sud¬ 
denly I saw the old ones crouch, throw back their 
long ears, and stare in mingled fear and rage with 

protruding eyes, at some 
object around the corner 
of the house. Soon it 
came in sight -— the stork, 
Hans, walking gingerly 
along, turning his long, 
crooked neck this way 
and that, pretending not 
to see the rabbits, yet all 
the time sidling nearer, 
in a sly, sneaking sort of 
way. I knew it in a mo¬ 
ment ; it was he who had 
eaten the rabbits! 

The little ones fled 
into their burrow at first 
sight of him, and the old 
ones followed. The bird stepped cautiously to the 



HANS EATS UP OUTER PEOPLES' 
CHILDREN.” 


















The Stork:. 


16S 

side of the house and stood for some time motion¬ 
less, with his head down, silently watching the en¬ 
trance to the burrow. Presently a little shining head 
appeared, and vanished. Then another, more bold, 
followed, and in an instant, before I could even 
scream, that long, sharp bill had darted down and 
the poor innocent little rabbit had disappeared. 

After this, the voung rabbits were kept in a 
hutch until they were too large for the storks to 
swallow —which was in about two weeks. 

But a time soon came when this cruel Hans, who, 
as Bertha said, “ made so little of eating other people’s 
children,” had trouble about his own. And this was 
the way of it. 

Mena had laid two large, fine eggs in the nest on 
the housetop; but one day we found one of them 
thrown out by the birds, and on examination dis¬ 
covered it to be addled, and on the very next day, a 
bit of stone fell from the chimney-top into the nest 
and broke the remaining egg. 

The birds were very much distressed. Hans seemed 
to think it was Mena’s fault, and strutted angrily 
about, making a quarrelsome rattling. We felt very 
sorry for their disappointment. The summer would 
be a sad and lonely one to them, poor things, with no 
little ones to busy themselves about. 


The Storks. 


169 


In this state of affairs a happy thought occurred to 
the pastor. His wife had just brought in some goose- 
eggs, newly-laid. Two of these he took, and ascend¬ 
ing to the roof by means of a short ladder, deposited 
them in the stork’s nest. He had hardly done so 
when Mena returned, and with a great fuss and 



flutter proceeded to take her place upon the nest, 
evidently under the impression that these eggs were 
the original ones, and that she must have been mis¬ 
taken in supposing them destroyed. Hans, too, 
evinced great satisfaction, and the two were again 
happy and satisfied. 

But one morning, before we were all fairly awake, 
what an awful clatter on the roof! The eggs were 
hatched; but what strange little monsters were those 







170 


The Storks. 


in the nest! Not storks; no, indeed! but two round, 
broad-billed, splay-footed, yellowish balls of down, 
such as had never before been seen in a respectable 
stork’s nest. No wonder that the poor mother-stork 
was bewildered and distressed, and that Hans, after 
staring with all his might at the little changelings, 
stood with neck-feathers on end, and rattled himself 
nearly distracted. 

You will hardly believe what I am now going to 
tell you; but it is what I, and the pastor’s family, saw 
with our own eyes. 

After rattling and stalking about for a long time, 
Hans suddenly became quiet, stood on one leg, and 
solemnly surveyed poor Mina. He looked exactly as 
if he were thinking what ought to be done with those 
changelings, and in what manner Mena ought to be 
punished for having pretended that the eggs were her 
own. Then he suddenly flew away, and in an hour 
returned with six other storks. 

You ought to have seen this company as they sat 
on the roof, staring at the wonderful creatures in the 
nest, and every now and then rattling, as if to express 
their astonishment. At length they walked up to the 
nest, pecked the poor innocent little goslings to 
death, and then falling on Mena pecked and cut her, 
and struck her with their strong wings, and would no 


The Storks. 


171 

doubt have killed her outright if the pastor had not 
hastily ascended to the roof and driven them off. 
Hans went away with them, nor did he return the 
whole summer. He could not forgive Mena the trick 
which he fancied she had played upon him. 

As to Mena herself, we took her up, torn and 
bleeding; and the pastor’s good wife tenderly bound 
up her wounds, and made her a bed in the poultry- 
coop, where we nursed and fed her until she got 
well. She soon became very tame, and would follow 
11s about like a dog, and at meal-times stand at the 
door to receive the choice morsels thrown to her by 
the children. At length she was quite well and 
strong, and then she grew restless; and suddenly 
one day, was missing. A neighbor had seen her 
flying toward the north-east in the direction of the 
woodland marshes, where the storks congregate be¬ 
fore taking their departure in a body for the South. 

Neither Hans nor Mena ever returned. 


















































t 








































* 




« 




t 












J 






. 




. 










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D. Lothrop & Co., of Boston, have recognized a 
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3VEISS vJTJLI-A. _A__ IE3-A_ST!]VE-A_ItT is one of the most populai 
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YOUNG RICK. By Julia A. Eastman. Large 

161110. Twelve illustrations by Sol Eytinge. $1 50. 

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echoing ” is a book of this sort, a well-told story, abounding 
with practical lessons, and inciting to a noble Christian life. 
The most intelligent opponent of religious novels will find 
his prejudices giving way in reading it, and a fastidious lit¬ 
erary reader will be thankful that children have such good 
books for moulding their literary tastes. 


JU GT H, E ^ D y . 


THE CHAUTAUQUA GIRLS AT HOME- 

By Pansy. i2mo. Illustrated.I 50 

* Pansy knows girls, and has the gift of story-telling, by which 
the hard facts of every-day life take on a charm as of fairy-land. No 
one can look into ‘ The Chautauqua Girls' without feeling the 
subtle fascination of its pictures of quiet life, and being drawn into 
warm sympathy with the four friends who long to form noble char¬ 
acters. They have been won to a love of Jesus by attending a 
camp-meeting at Chautauqua; but they find it so hard to be true 
to their new impulses, and to carry the spirit of the Bible into 
every-day life, that the story of their struggles, disheartening fail¬ 
ures relieved by partial successes, is very human and full of genuine 
pathos. It is good summer reading, for beguiling away hours, and 
inspiring with generous purposes.” 

"Pansy’s last book, ‘The Chautauqua Girls at Home,’ is as 
fresh and inspiring as a fine morning in June. The four friends, 
Marion, Ruth, Flossy and Eurie, are of genuine flesh and blood, 
with the petty weaknesses that flesh is heir to, and the noble aspi¬ 
rations that come at times to every high-minded girl. Their unlike¬ 
ness to each other in character and social position, and their mutual 
helpfulness in all sorts of difficulties, make a delightful story; in¬ 
structive as well as fascinating. One finds it hard to lay down the 
book after beginning the first chapter. It will find many readers 
who will welcome its stimulating power to high aims in life, and to 
patience and hope in fighting hard battles.” 


Boston: D. LOTHROP &= CO., Publishers. 



















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this merry story of seven plucky children who would hang together, come 
what might, is by all odds the best story published this year for the young folks 
of the family-boys and girls, father and mother, grandfather and grandmother, 
will all unite ia this verdict. 
























